2015 Holiday Challenge Bonanza - Uncensored
by MoreBonesPlz
Summary: My attempt to play along with the Bonesology Holiday Fan Fic Challenge – 12 stand alone chapters. I have no idea what I'll end up writing about so follow along and we can figure it out together. FINALLY COMPLETE!
1. Ch 1 - Mistletoe

**A/N:** _I am fairly certain I'll fall behind on this, but thought I'd try the Bonesology Holiday Challenge – twelve days, twelve prompts, each one a stand-alone chapter involving the same couple. Here's #1 - Mistletoe! Hope everyone is having a wonderful Christmas!_

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 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (12/25/15)

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As soon as Booth and Brennan walked in the front door of their home, Brennan silently dropped her purse on the nearest flat surface and headed into the kitchen while Booth, hands sheepishly tucked into the front pockets of his jeans, followed cautiously behind her. Max, who had come over to babysit the kids while the partners were at a holiday party being thrown by one of Booth's co-workers, was sitting on the sofa in their living room reading a book and looked up in surprise.

"You're home earlier than I expected," he noted.

Booth shook his head giving Max a look that any man who has ever encountered a woman in a bad mood would recognize as a ' _caution: tread lightly_ ' kind of look.

Max was smart enough to know when the best thing he could do for self-preservation was to skedaddle, so he slipped his shoes back on his feet and stood up from the sofa. Unfortunately, his jacket was tossed over the seat back of one of the kitchen bar stools, so he was going to have to approach Tempe before he could make his escape. "I checked on the kids about 30 minutes ago and they're both sleeping soundly. Christine went to bed around 8:30 and Hank went down just a little later at . . . whoa, what the hell happened to you?"

The words slipped out of his mouth before he could reign them in as soon as he got a good look at his daughter. When Booth and Tempe left to go to the party earlier that evening, her hair had been neatly swept up in some sort of elegant knot on top of her head, but now it was looking a little lopsided with several tendrils pulled loose and awkwardly dangling around her face. The left side of her bottom lip looked a tad swollen and there was just a smidgeon of blood visible in one crease to indicate that something must've hit her hard enough to split her lip. The deep emerald green dress she wore fell to a point slightly above her knees and the satiny material that tastefully showcased her figure was held up at the top by a couple of spaghetti straps. However, one of those spaghetti straps now appeared just a few threads shy of being torn completely from the bodice, as though her dress had been pulled forcefully while she was still inside it.

As Max watched, Brennan opened the freezer and pulled out an unopened bag of peas which she held against the knuckles of her right hand. Knuckles that, at a glance, looked to be red and slightly swollen. "Just a little misunderstanding, that's all," she answered dismissively.

When Booth snorted, Brennan's gaze flew to him, eyes narrowed, brow furrowed and her lips turned down at the corner. "Did you have something to add, Booth?"

"Ooooh, no. No. Whatever you say, Bones, I'm with you 110%."

She pursed her lips and rolled her eyes. "You know that there's no such thing as anything more than 100%." Brennan flexed her fingers under the cold package of frozen peas and muttered under her breath, "And it certainly didn't appear you were 100% with me earlier this evening."

"Hey, now. That's not fair. I explained and it wasn't my fault. It was the mistletoe and she kissed me, not the other way around."

"Like French people kissing on the street?" she asked somewhat sarcastically.

"Ah, yeah. Sure."

Brennan shook her head. One of her first kisses from Booth had been under mistletoe and there'd been nothing chaste about that kiss. It had left her out of breath with her mind reeling and she'd spent the rest of the afternoon wishing they hadn't had an audience, they hadn't been at the Jeffersonian, and they had followed that kiss to where it promised to go – her desk, her couch, her floor, her wall – she'd imagined scenarios for all of them that afternoon as she pretended to work. "Hmm. Well, I might have been able to handle a quick buss on the cheek, but I refuse to apologize. When I saw Agent Lucchetti place her palms on your chest and start to slide her hands up towards your neck, that was just too much and it was unacceptable."

"In my defense, there was no tongue action. I promise, I didn't open my mouth to her." Agent Christy Lucchetti had ambushed him under a strand of mistletoe and following the holiday tradition, Booth had leaned down to give her a quick, friendly kiss. However, she'd latched on to him, catching him by surprise, and had tried to force a much more intimate kiss than was appropriate, attempting to pry his lips apart with her tongue. "I did try to push her away, you know."

It was Brennan's turn to snort. "Not fast or hard enough. I've told you before, she is extremely attracted to you. She exhibits numerous traits of a female primping for a male's attention when she's around you, flirting and projecting forth her bosom, and my munificence with respect to her behavior was at an end."

"Yes, well," he chuckled. "You certainly surprised her when you grabbed her hand from my shoulder and twisted it around until it was hoisted halfway up her back, between her shoulder blades."

"It was an effective maneuver, wasn't it? She let you go."

"Yeah, Bones. It was definitely effective." It was also _HOT_ as hell. Call him shallow if you want, but watching his wife physically stake her claim on him in front of an entire room full of people, well, he was still sporting a partial erection that he was certain wasn't going to go away until he got a chance to physically stake his claim on her. "Although, I don't think you were expecting her to spin around on you like that to escape your hold." Booth stepped closer and lifted her chin so he could see her lip. "Looks like she managed to clock you pretty good with her elbow when she twisted herself free," he said softly, his face only a few inches from hers.

Listening to the snatches of their conversation, Max was able to figure out that some woman must've tried to kiss Booth in a way that his daughter took offense to. He wished he could've been a fly on the wall for that exchange. But, since they both seemed to have forgotten his presence in the room, he figured it was time for him to sneak out. "Well, kids, you seem to have everything under control, so I'm heading home now. G'night."

Without turning their heads to look at him, Booth and Brennan both simultaneously echoed his farewell. "Goodnight, Max."

As they heard the click of the front door close behind him, Booth gently ran his finger across her lip. "Is it tender?"

"Not too badly. Perhaps a kiss would make it feel better?"

Booth leaned forward and sprinkled several small kisses across her lip, chin, and cheek. "How's that? Any better?"

"Mmmm. Getting there, but I think I'll need a few more."

Booth gave her his sexiest smile as he stepped forward again, forcing her to back up against the counter where he pinned her in with one of his arms on each side of her and pressed his erection against her core. He alternately pulsed and rotated his hips gently, creating a delicious friction she felt through her clothing. "You know, Bones, when she pulled free of your hold and popped you in the lip, Agent Lucchetti was looking pretty smug. Granted, it only lasted for about two seconds because when she grabbed the front of your dress, that right hook you delivered would've made Oscar De La Hoya proud."

"I don't know who that is."

"He's a fairly well known boxer."

"Oh. Well, she deserved it."

"Yeah, she did. I was almost afraid to look when I heard a ripping noise from your dress. Then, before she could retaliate to your punch, you swept her feet out from under her and she landed flat on her ass. You moved so quickly and fluidly, I'm still not entirely certain what it was you did, but whatever it was, it was damn impressive. She consistently scores pretty high on our hand-to-hand combat training exercises and when you pushed her onto her back with your foot and then placed that gorgeous strappy tan sandal of yours next to her throat as you threatened her for messing with your man, I bet every guy in that room got an instant hard-on."

"I did not threaten her, Booth." Brennan placed her palms on his chest and started to caress his upper torso.

"Ha. I don't think I'll ever forget what you said to her. Let me see, I think it went something like . . . _In case you don't fully understand, I'll say this just one time._ _Special Agent_ _Seeley Booth is MY man and if you ever touch him in a non-professional manner again, yours is a body that they'll never find_. . . and Bones, that was a threat."

"It was a promise, not a threat."

"I swear, you even growled at her."

"I did not growl, Booth."

"Yep. You definitely growled and it was sexy as hell."

Brennan just rolled her eyes and stretched her body against his, pulling his head towards her. "Enough teasing, Booth. I'm just glad we no longer need mistletoe as an excuse for osculation. Now, shut up and kiss me, my man."

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 **A/N:** _Enjoy?_


	2. Ch 2 - Hot Chocolate

**A/N:** _Thanks for the reviews, follows, and favorites on my last chapter. Here's prompt #2 – Hot Chocolate._

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 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (12/26/15)

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It wasn't easy trying to describe the sensation of knowing you're being watched, but that's the feeling that woke Booth up the morning after Christmas. He wouldn't even hazard a guess at determining how many times in his life and his career that he'd felt it – the hairs on the back of his neck standing on end, a nervous energy that seemed to infiltrate the whole body, and his legendary gut instinct shouting at him that he was the focus of someone else's attention. As Morpheus's grip on his mind was banished freeing his consciousness, the sudden and sure knowledge that someone was watching him became his sole focus and he cracked his eyes open slowly, uncertain as to exactly what he might find.

He closed his eyes almost as quickly as he had opened them, but three things still managed to register. (1) Christine was sitting beside him with the new American Girl doll she'd unwrapped just yesterday morning, combing the doll's hair, and watching him sleep. (2) It was too damned bright in the room for him to keep his eyes open comfortably. What time was it and where the hell did all that light come from? he wondered groggily. And (3) He was laying on the floor, partially under their Christmas tree and not in his nice, soft bed.

The Booth's had placed this year's Christmas tree near the big picture window that covered most of one wall in their living room area, slightly off to the side of the fireplace and the sofa, and the early morning sunshine was directly streaming through the glass, bathing everything in the room in its golden glow.

"Uuugghhhh," he groaned. "Christine, pumpkin. What time is it?" His voice came out raspier than he'd expected and his mouth was as dry as the Sahara desert.

Booth heard the patter of her little feet as she ran into the kitchen to check the digital clock on the microwave, then returned.

"It's 7:19."

"Thanks, pumpkin. Can you do Daddy a favor and shut the curtains to the big window?"

"Why? Mommy likes them open so they let lots of natural sunlight into the room. She says natural light is better for stimulating the brain and eyesight and helps with our circle-something rhythms."

"I think you mean circadian rhythms and trust me, sweetheart, Mommy will be just fine with the curtains closed for this particular morning."

He heard Christine heave a large sigh, like she thought he was being unreasonable, and he could imagine her rolling her eyes at him the same way her mother would do, but she must've decided to do as he asked anyway because a moment later, he heard the rings supporting the curtains sliding along the rod above the windows. Booth attempted to open his eyes again and while there was still enough light in the room to send little shards of pain into his head when his eyes were open, the room was much dimmer and it was at least bearable now.

He propped himself up on both elbows as he surveyed the scene around him.

Bones was still sleeping soundly right beside him, also sprawled partially under the tree that was now devoid of all presents. They had pulled the cushions and pillows off the couch and grabbed a throw blanket to make their little impromptu holiday bed. His wife's bare back and shoulders were visible above the top edge of the blanket and she had a large silver Christmas bow still stuck to her hair on the top of her head. Her arms were folded under her cheek and he could see the silhouette of one of her luscious breasts pressed against the cushion, taunting him.

The events of the night before replayed through his mind.

Bones was naked under that blanket.

Of course, so was he, their clothes strewn all across the room like the Christmas wrapping paper that had littered the floor barely 24-hours ago.

He was pretty sure their shirts were over in the vicinity of the bar and he could see Brennan's red lacy bra she'd worn in honor of the holiday dangling from the lampshade by the sofa. Her matching red lacy panties had to be around here somewhere too.

Booth remembered peeling her blouse from her body last night, one button at a time, as they'd danced slowly together to some classic Christmas music from their jukebox – Johnny Mathis, Ray Conniff Junior, and Bing Crosby to name a few. He could still practically feel her hands as she'd slipped them under his t-shirt, the pads of her finger tips sliding upwards along his spinal column until he had to lift his arms, allowing her to tug his shirt over his head. Once he was bare-chested, her hands had slid back down his spinal column in a seductive caress until she could tuck them under the waist band of his jeans while her lips had started an exploration of their own on his front side.

Booth glanced down. Yep. Right there at about the 2 o'clock position and no more than an inch away from his left nipple he could definitely see the remnants of the love bite she'd given him once his chest was exposed to her. Things had gotten a little more heated between them after that.

"Daddy, why are you and Mommy sleeping under our Christmas tree?"

Booth snorted, then winced. "Shhhh. We need to whisper so we don't wake Bones." That, and because talking at a normal volume resembled the sound of a timpani drum being pounded right by his ears. He couldn't take much more of that. "I think I'm going to blame Angela for this one."

Like a smaller version of Brennan, Christine furrowed her brow, tilted her head, and looked at her father with a confused expression. "Aunt Angela made you guys sleep under our tree?"

"No, Aunt Angela gave your mother a new recipe for hot chocolate. A very tasty and apparently dangerous recipe that included tequila, peppermint schnapps, and whipped cream." Speaking of which . . . ah, there it was. After scanning the area around their makeshift bed, Booth spotted the now empty canister of Redi-Whip that had rolled over next to the end of the couch when they'd finished with it last night. He smiled. Now _that_ had been fun. He'd definitely have to try that again sober in order to decide whether he preferred licking the sweet confection from his wife's skin or having her lick it from his. From what he could recall through the alcohol haze clouding his memory, both experiences had been quite enjoyable the night before.

"What are schnapps? Can I have one?"

"No, pumpkin. Schnapps are an adult drink and you have to be a lot older before you're allowed to have any."

Booth scanned their living area again, this time trying to locate where his boxers had ended up. He really needed to pee and as soon as that was done, he was going to grab a large glass of water and a couple aspirin. He finally spotted the black cotton decorated with festive snowmen tucked part way beneath the blue ottoman that matched the adjacent chair. Pointing, he directed Christine's attention to where they were located.

"Can you toss me my shorts?"

Christine scrunched up her nose. "Eww. I don't wanna touch your underwear, daddy."

"They're just clothes, Christine. They won't bite you. If you don't want to touch them with your hands, then kick them over here."

Christine started to giggle, but she did as he asked, using the tippy toe of her baby blue Frozen slippers to drag and kick his underwear to where he could reach them and slip them on under the blankets.

Now that he was decent, or at least decent enough for being around family, Booth crawled out of the love nest he'd enjoyed with Bones the night before and went to take care of his morning ablutions with a stern directive towards his daughter not to disturb her mother. Having a hangover was bad enough but having a hangover while dealing with a tired, cranky, hungover Bones would be even worse.

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As soon as Booth left the room, Christine shook her mother's shoulder. "Are you awake, Mommy?" She had to repeat her action and question about three times before she finally got a response.

"I am now," Brennan mumbled sleepily before lifting her head and looking towards her daughter.

"Isabelle wanted to say good morning." Christine held her doll up towards her mother and waved its arm. "Good morning, Mommy," she announced in her high pitched pretend doll voice.

"Good morning, Isabelle," she responded automatically.

Despite the fact that Brennan knew the doll couldn't speak and couldn't actually have any wants or desires of its own, including greeting her, she didn't say anything to spoil her daughter's fun. Studies show that a healthy imagination and role playing with dolls or stuffed animals was an important part of a child's cognitive development.

Once the morning greeting was concluded, it only took Brennan about three seconds to realize where she was and remember how she'd ended up there. She looked around the room, noting the disarray and smiled to herself. Oh, that hot chocolate recipe was positively a keeper despite the fact that she'd have some definite cleaning and disinfecting to do today. She hadn't kept track of how many times she had orgasmed the night before, but Booth had risen to the occasion three times last night and as delightful as that always was, it could be a little messy. Except for the second time when she'd serviced him orally. She subconsciously licked her lips. No mess there.

"Why do you have a bow in your hair?"

Brennan reached back and pulled the bow off her head, holding it in front of her. "It was a game your daddy and I played last night."

"How do you play?"

"It's complicated and only intended for adults, honey." Booth had used some of the left over ribbons from the presents and tied her up for a bit. Or maybe tied her down would be a more accurate description. Either way, he'd kept her bound until she was moaning his name and promising to make it up to him for not buying the jet ski he wanted for Christmas.

Brennan rolled out from under the tree, wrapping herself in the blanket as she did so, and stood up next to it, only feeling slightly wobbly on her legs from the remnants of the alcohol that was still working its way through her system. As she headed towards the kitchen to pour herself some water, she discreetly tugged her bra off the lampshade and picked up her panties that were tangled around the cob pipe of one of their snowman decorations beside the fireplace. She downed a full glass of water before telling Christine she was going to get dressed and would return shortly.

As Brennan walked into their bedroom, she could hear Booth in the shower. With a smile on her face, she allowed the blanket that was wrapped around her to fall to the floor with her lingerie, deciding a shower was just what she needed.

She'd have to remember to ask Angela what other recipes she might be willing to share.

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 **A/N:** _Hot cocoa anyone?_


	3. Ch 3 - Snow

**A/N:** _Glad folks seem to be enjoying this. I caught several typo's in the last chapter – hopefully before you did. I'll apologize now for any more you find going forward as the 1-day turn around doesn't leave as much time for editing as I usually try to do._

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 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (12/27/15)

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"Oh yeah, baby. That's what I'm talking about. Look at that! It's finally snowing outside, Bones!"

Brennan looked over at her husband who was standing next to the window with his big childish grin spanning ear-to-ear across his face, excitement about the frosty weather rolling off him in waves. "Guess that means you'll have to shovel the driveway later today," she said.

"What?" He frowned in her direction. "No way, Bones. The first snow of the season isn't about practical things like shoveling the driveway. It's about being frivolous and having fun with snowmen, and snow ball fights, and sledding down the hill."

"Huh." Brennan looked at the pile of breakfast dishes she was cleaning (Booth cooked so it was her turn to clean); she thought about the laundry she needed to wash, especially for Hank who always seemed to have something coming out of both ends of his body these days; and she thought about the plethora of _things_ in Christine's room that she needed to weed through so they could decide which items could be donated to make room for her new toys from Christmas. Her room had been a mess ever since the holiday with no way to clean up until they made space by purging the items that Christine no longer used.

As much as fun and frivolous behavior might appeal, she was feeling the pressure to stick to practical and routine.

That thought alone made her wonder – what would Wild Card Wanda do with a day like today?

She plunged the skillet Booth had used for making pancakes into the hot sudsy water and began to scrub. "Have you ever been naked out in the snow, Booth?"

"What?" Booth's head snapped around from looking out the window to staring in surprise at his wife. Only Bones could ask a question like _that_ in a tone that made it sound as ordinary as if she was asking him if he wanted another slice of pizza.

"I asked if you've ever –"

"Right. I heard you the first time, Bones."

"Then why did you ask me to repeat myself?"

"I didn't mean . . . just, never mind." He turned and looked back out at the snow falling in their yard, just barely beginning to blanket the ground with a light dusting of white.

Brennan counted out five full seconds in her head before challenging her husband on the topic. "You didn't answer my question, Booth."

"Why would you even ask such a thing?"

Brennan took in the sudden flush creeping up his neck and turning the tips of his ears bright red. Combine that with his poor attempts at evading the topic and she had her answer, whether he admitted it or not. "So, I'll take that as a yes. Did you have sex in the snow then?"

"No. Of course not."

"Oooh, I see. Did you have performance issues? Because of the cold weather?"

"What? No. Jesus, Bones. It wasn't anything like that, okay. I've never had _performance issues_ in my life. Yes, if you really must know. I was naked out in the snow one time but it really wasn't all that fun and it isn't anything exciting to talk about."

"So? Tell me about it anyway."

"You're not going to let this go, are you?"

"I'm curious, that's all. I've never been naked in the snow or had sex outdoors while it was snowing or even with snow on the ground." She scrunched up her face distastefully. "To be honest, it doesn't sound very comfortable or pleasurable."

Booth half-laughed and half-sighed. Her curiosity and her frankness were two of the many things he loved about her. "Fine. It was when I was serving as a Ranger, back in my twenties. You know, I truly believe our U.S. military is the best in the world, Bones. We have the best soldiers, the best training, and the best equipment. But despite all that, when you get a group of twenty-something-year old men together for any length of time, occasionally, they're gonna do stupid shit. It's like one of your anthropological inevitabilities. At the time, my unit was stationed over in Kazakhstan. It had been snowing off and on for days and we were all getting a little stir crazy and tired of the freezing cold temperatures. My unit was off-duty. We were bored and we'd been drinking a bit. And, one of the guys suggested we have a competition to run around the base in nothing but our boots, then see who could be the first to, you know, rouse a full-on erection back in the rec room of our joint quarters."

"Because cold air has the same effect on a male's genitalia as cold water, causing it to retract back into the body for warmth." She was standing beside him near the window now, having temporarily abandoned the dishes and wandered over during his story.

"Yeah. We laid out about a 2-mile course to run so we were only outside for about 15 minutes, but it was fucking cold and my boys were not happy with me. Then, fisting myself with a half frozen hand? I'll tell you what, Bones, there was no pleasure involved in that, at first."

"At first?" Brennan smiled, picturing a naked Booth wearing nothing more than a pair of combat boots with his dog tags dangling around his neck and taking himself in hand. His strong thighs, his cut abdominal muscles, and his well-formed biceps would all be on display. His body would probably also have a slight sheen of sweat coating it once he got back indoors after his run. "That changed?"

Booth sent a teasing smile back at her. "I had to think of something during the run portion to distract me from the cold, so my mind was already primed. I just needed my body to catch up."

"What did you think of?"

"It was before I knew you, you know."

"Of course I know that. You were in your thirties when we met. Tell me. What did you think of?"

"Emily Fentress. She had this great heart-shaped ass and a rack out to here," he held his cupped hands out in front of his chest. "But the best thing about Emily and what I think made her seem so sexy to me, Bones, were these dark framed glasses she wore. She was a brilliant tactical analyst and it was sexy as hell to hear her talk. Kinda like you when you get all squinty on me." Booth nudged Brennan's shoulder with his own. "Apparently I'm a real sucker for smart women who use big, complex words."

Brennan lifted one finger and lightly stroked his suprasternal notch at the base of his throat, the grin on her face reflecting the warmth she felt at his comment. "Did you win? The competition, I mean."

"Well, yeah. Of course. Emily was the object of my first librarian fantasy and you know what those do to me."

Her throaty chuckle sent shivers up his spine – the good kind that had the opposite effect of running naked through the snow. "Oh yes. I definitely know about your librarian fantasies." She slipped her hand around to the back of his neck and pulled him down for a deep, arousing kiss.

With Christine running around, likely to appear any moment, and the need to check on Hank shortly, she knew she'd have to settle for just a kiss, for now at least.

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The snow continued to fall all day dropping almost 8-inches on the ground and despite the dishes, dirty laundry, and need to spring clean in Christine's bedroom, Booth, Brennan, Christine, and Hank all managed to get outside and build snowmen, throw snowballs, and go sledding down the hill in back of the Anderson's house. They had the best sledding hill in the neighborhood so the Booths were joined by several other neighborhood kids and families while they played.

By the time the sun went down, everyone was pleasantly exhausted from being out in the cold, fresh air and Christine barely stayed awake through dinner before she tumbled into a deep sleep from which there was no wakening her. A couple hours later, Brennan was just starting to doze off herself when Booth gently shook her shoulder, rousing her. "Hey, Bones. Come with me."

Not yet fully awake, Brennan grabbed hold of the hand he offered her and allowed him to drag her into the laundry room where he handed her her jacket, a hat, some mittens, and her warm snow boots. "Booth. I don't want to go outside now. I'm in my pajamas."

"MmHm. Me too." And he was. She could see the collar of one of his T-shirts where his jacket wasn't zipped all the way to the top and he was only wearing a cotton flannel pair of lounge pants on his legs though they were tucked in to the top of his snow boots.

"So what, exactly, are we doing?"

"Just humor me, Bones."

With a heartfelt sigh, she slipped on the clothing he'd handed her and allowed him to grab her hand again and pull her out the door.

Booth had come out earlier and cleared the snow off one of their patio deck lounge chairs, covering the seat with a large beach towel as a barrier to the cold plastic. Tugging Brennan along behind him, he sat down in the chair then pulled her down to sit in front of him, her back against his front, and wrapped his arms around her.

"This is one of my favorite parts of a fresh snow," he spoke softly. "Everywhere you look, everything is covered in a soft blanket of white, and you don't even need a flash light to see as there's enough ambient light in the air that gets reflected off the snow to make it look almost like a pale daylight. But the silence is what I really like the most. Just listen." He paused and they sat quietly together, the only sound was of their breaths. "The plows haven't cleared the secondary roads yet, so there are no sounds of cars. The birds and the dogs are all sleeping. Not even the crickets are making a sound."

"It seems a little surreal."

"Yeah," he agreed.

They snuggled together for a bit, just enjoying the quiet. Brennan let go of all the thoughts about other things she could or should be doing and allowed herself to relax against Booth, savoring the simple moment and storing it away as a treasured memory she could reflect back on in the future.

"So, Bones, I've been thinking about something all day in the back of my mind."

"Mmmm. What's that?" she asked, lazily.

Booth tilted his head forward until his lips were just beside her ear then whispered softly, "Would you like to make love outdoors tonight?"

Brennan's eyes grew wide and she quickly turned her head to look at her husband. "What? You mean here? Now?"

"Yeah, Bones. Here. Now." Booth thrust his pelvis forward gently against her backside and she could feel his erection against her derriere, the thin cotton of his pants and hers providing only a token barrier.

Brennan assessed her comfort level. Her toes were chilly and would likely be numb before too much longer, but it was not unbearable. The same was true of her fingers. She could feel cold on her legs as her cotton pajama pants didn't offer much warmth, but again, it was more of an acknowledgement of the sensation than it was discomforting yet. "What did you have in mind?"

Booth gave her a quick squeeze that let her know he was happy with her response. "Well, I think foreplay will need to be mostly verbal as it's too cold to actually disrobe. But sex could be done just like this so we only need to pull your pants down just a bit. Just enough."

"Reverse cowgirl style?"

"Yeah, Bones." Booth slipped his hands under her jacket and her shirt, gripping her waist above her hips. "See? I've been keeping my hands warm for you. This way, I can run my fingers over your breasts and play with your nipples while I'm sliding into you from behind. I'll be able to hold your breasts gently or with a firm grip, whichever you ask for, as you slide up and down my cock and if you want me to pinch your nipples or pull on them, all you have to do is say so."

Brennan could feel moisture building between her legs at his words, which she knew was his intent. "Do it," she ordered, hoping he'd move his hands from where they gripped her waist and put actions to words.

He did and she moaned in pleasure.

Booth accompanied the torture of his hands with kisses and nips he placed along her neck. The scrape of his teeth along her throat induced shivers that had nothing to do with the snow or the cold. Brennan wiggled her hips left to right which created a delicious friction for both of them where he was pressed up against her backside.

"I can't wait to be inside you, Bones. Do you have any idea how good it feels when you welcome me into your body?"

"Booth. Yessss."

"Are you ready for me, baby?"

"Yes, Booth. I want to feel you bury your cock inside me. Now."

"On three, lift up and lean a little forward. One . . . two . . . three."

Brennan braced her hands on the arms of the lounge chair and lifted herself while Booth quickly grabbed the back of her pants and tugged them down, just enough to provide clearance for him to nudge himself against her opening. "Sit back now, Bones."

When she did, he slid all the way home and they made love. He thrust, she squeezed. They rocked back and forth, sometimes pressing together and sometimes pulling apart. Once they found a rhythm, he slipped his hands back under her shirt and continued to worship her breasts, like he'd promised, letting her tell him when she wanted more or something different. They didn't rush the experience, but both were aroused enough by the novelty of it that it didn't take terribly long before they were both on the edge. Between heavy breaths, they exchanged soft spoken words. Then, with a final, quick, deep thrust by Booth and a hard clenching of her vaginal muscles by Brennan, they both went over the edge, exploding as she milked him and drew everything he had to give from his body.

In the aftermath, they lay together on the lounge chair until both their breaths returned to normal and they started to get sleepy, then they wandered hand-in-hand back into their house, heading for bed. As they crawled under their blankets and Brennan rested her head on Booth's shoulder, she sleepily conceded "I believe I'm beginning to appreciate your enthusiasm for the snowy weather, Booth. Thank you."

"I love you, Bones."

"I love you, too."

* * *

 **A/N:** _We have company coming over for dinner tonight, so I won't be able to start the next prompt and will most likely fall a day behind. Hope you're still having fun with these! Comments are always welcome._


	4. Ch 4 - Christmas Tree

**A/N:** _A little different tone for this one._

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (12/28/15)

* * *

When Dr. Temperance Brennan was a young child, she had loved Christmas. The colorful twinkling lights that decorated the trees, houses, and street poles were like bringing the stars from the heavens within reach. She loved the anticipation of waiting to discover what goodies would be revealed on Christmas morning when the presents under the Christmas tree were finally unwrapped. On Christmas Eve, she and her mother, her father, and her brother would gather around and sing Christmas carols while her mother played the piano. Sometimes, they'd even go door to door in their neighborhood and sing to the neighbors, although she didn't realize until she was in her early teens that that particular tradition largely depended on how much eggnog her parents had consumed throughout the evening.

Then, her parents left her, as did her brother shortly thereafter.

For the next decade and a half, Christmas had simply been a reminder that she was alone, without a family to share with. There was no warmth, no joy, and no more eager anticipation in it for her. She never bought a Christmas tree during that period of her life because it would've been too disheartening to look at it every day and be reminded by the absence of gifts that she wasn't special to anyone in particular. All she saw of Christmas was the excessive over commercialization of what should've been a reverent religious holiday and that many people used the holiday as an excuse to overindulge their every whim.

So, she left.

For a number of years, throughout college and into her early career, she would travel to some third world destination and spend her holidays doing research at an archeological site or participating in some sort of anthropological exploration. Several times over the years, she'd been able to partake in assisting at mass grave sites, helping to sort the bones belonging to multiple co-mingled bodies and assign basic facts such as gender, age, and race to each set of remains so the local authorities could try to assign a name or family to the individuals. To her, Christmas became a time where she could no longer ignore the atrocities of mankind and our species inherent ability to slay our fellow man without guilt over relatively minor infractions, such as the way someone looked, where they came from, or what their beliefs were. She saw lots of death and she repeatedly saw evidence of human behavior at its worst. Intellectually, from a cultural anthropological perspective, she found the work fascinating and highly engaging. But as a human being, she struggled with understanding how so many societies throughout time and all across the world could condone such carnage perpetuated on their fellow man.

Then, she became partners with Booth.

The first Christmas after they became partners, they were stuck in quarantine at the Jeffersonian lab together with several of their other co-workers – Angela, Zach, Dr. Hodgins, and Dr. Goodman. Brennan had no desire to participate in the foolish antics that Angela and the others thought up to bring the holiday into the laboratory since none of them could go out, but that didn't mean she didn't observe what was happening around her. She saw a group of people who weren't terribly close to one another and came from diverse backgrounds of culture, race, economic status, gender, and age all working together and making a concerted effort to help one another retain some holiday magic despite the circumstances so their Christmas experience would still be positive.

Angela had created a virtual Christmas tree using the Angelatron and Brennan had stood in the back of the room as everyone gathered around when she turned it on, sharing her masterpiece with her colleagues. The symbolism of the tree had been so powerful to that small group of people, including Brennan, that she had been overwhelmed by feelings she didn't fully understand and she had slipped out the door before she could say or do anything that would ruin the moment for everyone else and continued her study of Lucky Lionel's personal effects.

Later that morning, Booth had talked with her about the true meaning behind gift giving, from his viewpoint and she'd met his son, Parker, for the very first time. Surprisingly, for the first time since before her parents had disappeared from her life, she'd seen and felt some of the goodness associated with the Christmas holiday.

The second Christmas after she and Booth became partners, she once again traveled to the far ends of the earth to avoid the holiday and all its trappings, focusing on dead bodies instead. However, before she left, Booth had given her a small Christmas gift. It wasn't anything fancy or elaborate, just a simple Christmas tree ornament. But Booth had found an ornament with Santa standing in front of an x-ray plate that covered him from knees to neck, showing Santa's bones. It was, of course, highly inaccurate in its depiction of the human skeletal system, but she appreciated Booth's gesture. Whether he'd deliberately meant to or not, he'd found an ornament that combined her world of science and bones with his world of mythology and Santa. She didn't give him anything in return.

The third Christmas after she and Booth became partners, Brennan actually went out and bought a small potted pine tree plant that she set up in her apartment on a small table. She figured she'd plant the tree in the ground somewhere in the spring. She placed her one ornament, the previous year's gift from Booth on her little tree. She thought about going out and purchasing a few more ornaments, but felt that would diminish the significance of what Booth's meant to her, so she did not. Around the bottom of the tree, she placed gifts she'd purchased for Angela, Booth, Parker, her Dad, Russ, Amy, and their girls. As she'd pass the tree in her apartment, she no longer saw the absence of gifts for her as a symbol that she wasn't special to anyone. Instead, she saw the abundance of gifts for others indicating that there were people in her life that were special to her.

She ended up cancelling her plans to leave town so she could spend the holiday celebrating with her father, her brother, and his family at the prison. Booth and Parker had made it even more special by bringing a fully decorated tree to the jailhouse that they set up in the parking lot, powering the Christmas tree lights from Booth's car battery, so that she and her family could enjoy the tree through the windows. It had made the holiday event even more perfect for her whole family. That year, Brennan felt as though she'd actually been able understand the appeal of Christmas again thanks to Booth. He'd made her feel special.

The fourth year into their partnership, she'd again left town, but she'd missed being home. She'd exchanged small gifts with Booth and Parker before she went away and she'd found herself thinking about them and missing them, especially on Christmas day itself. It had been irrational to feel that way, of course, but nonetheless, it's what she'd felt. Brennen didn't have a tree that year, but she'd taken Booth's ornament with her and hung it in her tent for decoration anyway.

The fifth year, her father had convinced her to host a Christmas dinner at her place and, when it was all said and done, she was glad he did so. He went out and bought a real Christmas tree to put up in her apartment and she'd had to purchase a number of decorations for it, but she'd still put that first ornament from Booth on the tree in a spot where she could see it from her sofa where she sat most nights reading or working after her dinner.

The Christmas dinner party had been a splendid success. Brennan, for the first time in almost two decades, had felt she was truly part of a family again and she credited much of that to Booth. He'd played host to her hostess that night, just naturally stepping in as needed, as if he belonged there. When the party was over, he'd stuck around after everyone else left and helped her clean up. Then, even though it was late at night, the two of them had exchanged gifts and spent the next several hours sitting on her couch just talking about everything and nothing until the wee hours of the morning, as though neither one of them wanted the night to end. In Brennan's mind, it was the best Christmas she'd ever had.

Which, in contrast, had made the next year extremely difficult. She'd left town again, even though, for the first time ever, she hadn't really wanted to go. But, she'd wanted to stay even less. As hard as it was on a day to day basis to watch Booth and Hannah together, she didn't think she'd be able to tolerate watching them together at Christmas time, a time of the year that she had begun to associate as being special to her because of Booth, the man she'd come to love. Over the years, he'd given Christmas back to her a small piece at a time and for Brennan, the two went hand in hand – Booth and Christmas. That year, she didn't even take the ornament he'd given her earlier in their partnership out of the closet. It had probably been the most depressing Christmas for her since she'd been fifteen years old.

Fortunately, by the seventh year of their partnership, things between them had changed drastically again and this time for the better. She was pregnant with Booth's baby. They spent every one of their nights together, all night, in the same bed.

When Christmas rolled around, they'd gone together to select a tree which they'd put up at his place so Parker could enjoy it too when he came over. As they decorated the tree, there was Christmas music playing in the background and Brennan had found herself humming along, often singing softly with the tunes, just like when she'd been a child singing with her family. Booth had praised her singing voice, encouraging her to sing more. Once the tree was complete, they'd spent several nights leading up to Christmas snuggling on the couch and admiring it. Slowly, a pile of gifts had appeared at the base of the tree. Several labelled for her and she knew that between Booth and their baby, she didn't need to worry anymore about whether or not someone out there considered her special.

Now, they were married and had a second child. The last five Christmases they'd spent together had each been unique in their own ways, but the love and happiness she experienced sharing the holiday with Booth had been a constant. As Brennan carefully removed the ornaments from this years' tree, several of which she and Booth had collected together in the last few years as souvenirs of shared experiences, she couldn't help but feel a little nostalgic that the holidays were winding down and it was time for the tree to be put away. However, she knew next year it would be back up again. After all, she finally had a real family of her own to celebrate with now.

* * *

 **A/N:** _Would you believe I sat down intending to write a fluffy scene about them removing the decorations from the tree after Christmas ended? Obviously what came out when I started typing was very different though. Hope you enjoyed it?_


	5. Ch 5 - Angels

**A/N:** _Darn it. As predicted, I fell behind. Waaay behind. Hope I'm still allowed to play along . . ._

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (1/2/16)

* * *

Brennan removed the last strand of lights from the Christmas tree, wrapping them up in a neat little coil so they wouldn't get tangled in the storage box between now and next year while Christine carefully put the last few ornaments back in their boxes. As organized as she always was, Brennan had specific small labelled boxes for each ornament that went on the tree. Some of the little boxes had handwritten notes on the sides about when and where the ornament had come from. One more quick perusal of the tree branches, and Brennan was satisfied everything had been removed and carefully packed away.

"Booth," she called to her husband who was in another room.

"Yep. You ready for me?"

"Yes. All the decorations have been removed, so we can take the tree to the recycling center now."

"Okey dokey. I'll be right there."

Booth grabbed a roll of twine from the garage that he could use to strap the tree to the top of the SUV and a set of gardening gloves so he wouldn't get any sap on his hands. He approached the tree and reached in with both arms to grab hold of the slender trunk. "All right. I've got her. Go ahead and loosen the screws at the base."

Brennan and Christine both dropped to their knees and crawled under the branches to where the tree was anchored to the tree stand by a series of long screws. Christine was eager to help so Brennan showed her what to do in order to loosen the screws and the two worked quickly together while Booth held the tree steady.

"Okay, Booth. The screws are loose enough now that you can go ahead and pull out the tree."

Brennan held on to the tree stand base as Booth hefted the tree upward with a grunt, lifting it off the prongs inside the tree stand that helped anchor it. Then, he hauled it outside and tossed it on top of his SUV. A few minutes later, after donning their jackets, Brennan and Christine came out to help strap it down and found Booth leaning his palms and forehead against the side of the SUV.

"Are you okay?" Brennan asked.

"Yeah. I think I just pulled a muscle or two in my shoulder." He pushed himself away from the car. "Oooh, that's gonna hurt later," he groaned as he rolled his shoulders then stretched his neck left, then right.

"Do you need me to go grab you an ice pack or some aspirin?"

"Nah. I'll be all right. Let's just grab Hank and go run our errands."

* * *

By the time dinner was done that evening, Booth had parked himself in front of the TV in the living room, claiming his neck was too sore for him to do anything else, and leaving Brennan in charge of getting the kids bathed and ready for bed. Once their teeth were brushed and bedtime stories read, she kissed first one and then the other goodnight before heading to her own bathroom where she filled the tub with steamy hot water and liberally sprinkled it with Epsom salts.

Brennan walked back out to the living room area and shut off the TV. "Bath time," she announced.

"What? But there's a game on tonight that's about to start," Booth complained.

"Come on." She reached down and grabbed his hands, pulling him into a standing position and pushing him in the direction of their room. "I want you to soak for at least 20 minutes. I put enough water in the tub that you should be able to sink down into it all the way up to your chin. After your soak, I'm going to give you some aspirin and massage your neck muscles. If you still feel like watching the rest of the game after that, you can watch it on the TV in our room, but only for tonight. You should still be able to catch at least half the game and the second half is all that really matters anyway since that is when the final score gets determined, right?"

"What do you mean only the second half matters? Jeez. That's not how it works, Bones. You make a lousy sports fan, you know that?"

"But you've told me on numerous occasions that games are often won or lost in the last 60 seconds of play. If that's true, then why are the preceding 30 or 40 or even 60 minutes really relevant?"

"Because, Bones. Some games don't come down to the last minute to determine the winner and even if they do, there can be critical plays that occur in the first minute of a game or anytime thereafter that set the tone for the whole rest of the night. You have to watch the whole game, start to finish, because _every_ minute counts in sports, Bones. Every. Minute."

Booth was too annoyed to initially notice the teasing smirk on her face as they stopped by the foot of their bed and she reached to unfasten his belt. But, she couldn't prevent herself from glancing up at him as she popped the snap on his jeans and tugged on his zipper and he caught sight of the teasing glint in her eyes and the quirk to her lips. "Oh, I get it now. You're just trying to bedevil me, aren't you?"

Brennan just laughed as she reached for the hem of his shirt and helped pull it over his head, not wanting him to aggravate his sore neck and shoulder more than necessary. "I don't know what you mean." Her response was pure innocence and blatantly false.

Naked, Booth turned and walked into his bathroom while Brennan simply admired the view. "You just wait until I'm feeling better, Bones," he tossed over his shoulder. Under his breath he muttered "Then I'll show you some real bedeviling."

* * *

While Booth was in the bath, Brennan changed into her own pajamas which consisted of large t-shirt and a loose pair of flannel lounging pants. She was sitting up in their bed, pillows propped against the headboard, reading a journal about modern analytical forensic techniques when Booth exited the bathroom roughly a half hour later. He stopped and stood in the doorway, one shoulder leaning against the door frame, arms crossed over his chest, wearing nothing but a bath towel wrapped low around his hips and knotted at the front.

It didn't matter how long they'd been together or how many times Brennan had seen him only partially covered (or fully naked) before, she always found herself slightly breathless whenever he appeared in front of her showing more skin than anyone else was privileged to see. Despite the numerous scars peppering his torso from the three near fatal shootings he'd been involved in, she still only saw beauty and strength when she looked at his form. As for Booth, he could've anticipated that his wife would scan him from head to toe and the appreciative look that appeared in her eyes, but knowing it was coming didn't make it any less effective at stroking his male ego or pride. Without any deliberate thought, he puffed out his chest a bit and flexed his muscles, subconsciously wanting to look his best for her.

"Feel any better?"

"Actually, I do. You know you're amazing, don't you Bones?"

"Yes, of course. Are you ready for your massage?" Her voice came out with that slightly husky rasp to it that he loved to hear.

"Yeah. Where do you want me?"

Brennan's arm swept out to indicate the bed. "Here. Just lay down on your stomach without a pillow and your arms relaxed by your sides."

Booth did as he was instructed while Brennan grabbed a bottle of massage oil off her nightstand and crawled onto the bed to straddle him.

She started gently, pouring small amounts of the warming oil onto his skin and rubbing it in with light circular motions until his neck and shoulders were shiny and smooth without being overly greasy. Then, as the oil's heat started to soak into his muscles, she applied more pressure. Brennan used her knowledge of human physiology and kinesiology to manipulate the muscles and tendons of Booth's upper back, relieving the stress and tension stored in the muscles. She listened to his grunts, groans, and hisses to help guide her in her motions. He could feel the strength in her fingers as they stroked, poked, and dug into his tissue turning the highly toned muscles of his neck and shoulders into delightfully useless molds of jello.

"Aaaaahhhhhh," the moan practically drooled out of Booth's mouth as she hit an especially sensitive spot and made it feel 1000 times better. "Don't ever stop, Bones."

Brennan chuckled softly. "You know I'll have to stop sometime, Booth . . . but not just yet." She enjoyed giving him a massage almost as much as Booth enjoyed receiving one. She loved the feel of him under her hands – the soft pliable skin on the surface and the strong toned muscles underneath. She could feel the physical manifestation of his strength and power through her touch and, to be honest, it was extremely arousing. Not just because their massages frequently concluded in a delightful bout of lovemaking but also because there was simply an inherent feminine pleasure in being able to subdue and pleasure such a dominant masculine creature with only her fingers.

"Mmmm. You have the hands of an angel, Bones. Did you know that?" Booth's voice was groggy and dreamy sounding.

"Angels are supposed to be messengers from your God. I don't recall anywhere in the bible where it talks about how their hands would feel during a massage."

"They'd have hands that feel just like yours do. Oh yeah. Just like that . . . Uuuuhhh. That's perfect."

"I don't know, Booth. Many religions view angels as celestial beings or spirits that don't actually have a physical shape despite the fact that they are often depicted as taking a humanoid form in many artistic mediums. As such, I'm not certain that true angels, if they existed, would even have hands."

"Nope. I'm not gonna let you spoil it for me. In my world, angels are beautiful, voluptuous women with magnificent hooters, just like you, and with magical hands, just like yours."

"Hmm. And are the angels in your world pure and chaste and always representing kindness and goodness?"

"Well, yeah. Of course. They're angels."

Brennan leaned down and nipped his earlobe before whispering right next to his ear, "Then I think I'd have to be a fallen angel because, as you very well know, I am neither pure nor chaste and right now, my thoughts are much more inclined to wickedness than goodness."

Booth cocked an eyebrow and looked at her over his shoulder. "Wickedness, huh?"

"Yes. Unless, you'd rather watch your game."

Booth suddenly flipped over, knocking her onto her back, and leaned over her. "Nah. I can catch the game highlights tomorrow."


	6. Ch 6 - Pie

**A/N:** _So, my New Year's resolution is to finish any currently incomplete stories I have out there before the show returns in the spring. This challenge is one of three._

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (1/3/16)

* * *

"You know what? I think I'm craving some pie with my lunch today."

"Pie?"

"Yes. Pie."

"But you don't like pie. I do."

"That's usually true, but today I'm craving pie."

Booth's gaze dropped from his wife's face down to her chest as she sat across the table from him at the diner where they met most days for lunch. He studied her blouse intently trying to discern any recent changes to her bosom that he might have overlooked.

"Why are you staring at my breasts?"

Booth's eyes snapped back up to hers. "Because you don't like pie and the only time you crave pie is when you're pregnant. And, when you're pregnant, your . . ." he waved his arms in a circle in front of his chest.

"My breasts?"

"Yes. Those. They quadruple in size."

Brennan rolled her eyes at him. "Surely as much as you've touched and tasted them at this point in our relationship you can say the word Booth. And, they do not quadruple."

"Maybe not literally, but, you have to admit, they certainly get a lot bigger." His eyes dropped down to her chest again and he furrowed his brows. "They don't look very large right now though," he mused.

Brennan pressed her lips together in a slight frown and quirked an eyebrow at him letting him know without words that his end comment uttered in that particular manner was less than complimentary.

"I just mean they look normal right now. A good normal . . . normal is wonderful. Perfect . . . You have to know how much I love normal. I worship normal with my body all the time . . . of course, I love bigger than normal too, you know, when you're pregnant and they grow bigger." Booth gave up trying to keep his foot out of his mouth and let his shoulders droop on a sigh. "I love you, Bones, and I think your . . . breasts," he practically choked saying the word out loud, in public, "are perfect no matter what type of mutations they go through."

"Mutations?"

Booth scrunched up his face. "Probably not the best word choice, huh?"

"No. Probably not."

"How about transformations?"

"Definitely better than mutations," she agreed.

"Good." Booth cleared his throat. "So?"

"So? . . . What?"

"Are you pregnant again?"

"No. I am not. Despite the fact that we've managed to maintain an extremely active sex life even with two kids and a TV in our bedroom and that you're quite diligent in physically worshiping my _normal_ breasts, I'm not pregnant. I'm simply in the mood for some pie. That's all."

"Huh." He looked at her suspiciously.

"Did you know the earliest historical references to pies date back to around 2000 B.C."

"Nope. Can't say I knew that. All I know about pie is that both my mother and my grandmother would bake them on special occasions and I just love to eat it."

"That makes sense. Pie is a traditional comfort food which invokes a sense of nostalgia and represents safety and security. There's even an organization called the American Pie Council whose mission statement is to preserve America's pie heritage and to promote our devotion to pies as a society."

"The American Pie Council, huh?"

"Yes. They sponsor competitions, sell pie-themed merchandise, and have a recipe section for the organizations members."

"I didn't realize you were that interested in pies, Bones."

"Well, it is the holiday season and pies are a traditional part of the holidays. Plus, when I think of pies, I think of you and I'm interested in you."

Booth smiled. "Thanks, Bones. That's sweet and kinda romantic." Then he frowned. "You don't usually do sweet and romantic though. Are you sure there's nothing going on I need to know about?"

Brennan just rolled her eyes at him again.

When the waitress finally came over to their table to take their lunch orders, Brennan requested her usual lunch salad, but added a request for a slice of their pumpkin pie to go with it. Even though she was craving pie, she still didn't desire eating a sweet confection with gooey cooked fruit chunks in it and pumpkin pie seemed like the perfect compromise to her.

Booth added a slice of the homemade apple pie to his order but all through his lunch and dessert, he was anxiously trying to decipher if there was really some hidden meaning behind his wife's desire for pie that he was missing and, despite her assurances, he still found his gazing falling below her neckline over and over again, all through the meal.

* * *

 **A/N:** _A little on the short side for me, but hope it was still fun. Comments welcomed._


	7. Ch 7 - Frost

**A/N:** _Well, apparently it's official. I really, really suck at getting these one-word challenges done, especially on a time line . . . but I will prevail!_

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (2/2/16)

* * *

Booth stood in the front doorway of his house wearing nothing but boxers, a t-shirt, and a light cotton robe, hopping from one slippered foot to the other as he scanned the driveway for the morning newspaper. He was half convinced that whoever the guy was that delivers their newspaper made it a game to toss it somewhere that Booth would have to search for it and it was way too damn cold this morning to enjoy a game of 'find the paper.'

While most days, he appreciated the privacy of having their house tucked a little deeper in the woods and set back from the main road, mornings like this one when it seemed cold enough to freeze the tits off an ice sculpture, the trek to the end of the driveway seemed way too long. _Just be quick, just be quick_ , he told himself repeatedly as he stepped off the front porch and started to hustle towards the main street.

At the end of the drive, he saw the newspaper sitting half-in and half-out of a bush set about ten feet beyond the edge of the drive way. The frost covered grass crunched under his feet as he went to get it, little shards of ice flaking off onto his slippers and making his already cold feet even colder. Even the half of the newspaper that had been exposed was covered in frost so Booth tucked the other half under his arm, shoved his hands back into the pockets of his too-light-to-provide-much-warmth bathrobe, and sprinted back to the front door.

Which refused to open.

 _Fuck!_ He forgot to toggle the door lock so it wouldn't automatically lock when the door closed.

Booth shivered. _Jesus, it was cold_. All his extremities were starting to go numb.

Bones was asleep just a few walls away, but she'd kick his ass if he started ringing doorbells or banging on the door this early in the morning and woke the kids (who normally slept for at least another two hours) if there was another, easier way in.

He ran over to his SUV which was parked in the driveway, hoping to use the garage door opener to get in the house, but the SUV was locked up tight. _Shit, shit, shit!_

Then he remembered the kitchen door and darted over to the side of the house. They had hidden a key for the kitchen door which opened onto the side patio just in case either of them needed to get in and didn't have their front door key. Now he just had to remember where they hid it. Bones wouldn't let him put it under a fake rock right beside the door as she said that was too obvious and wouldn't fool anyone.

Booth stood there bouncing up and down and blowing puffs of warm air onto his hands while he looked around the patio, chills rolling up and down his spine and his teeth starting to chatter. _Where did Bones tell him she hid the damn key?_ He lifted up several pots and yard ornaments, even checking in the mouth of a ceramic frog. No luck. He checked all the rocks bordering the planting bed, but they were all real – none hollowed out for a key. He pulled the fabric cover off the grill and opened the lid, knowing Bones wouldn't put the key where it could get damaged by the heat of the coals, but starting to feel desperate anyway.

Finally, as he was putting the cover back on the grill, he saw it . . . the small little black box magnetically attached to the back side of one of the grill legs which held his salvation. Booth grabbed the box and slid it open, the small silver key landing in the palm of his hand. His fingers were so cold now that he fumbled a bit getting the key into the lock, but he was determined and after just a couple attempts, he was in.

Booth dropped the key and the newspaper on the kitchen counter. All he cared about right then was getting warm and the warmest spot in the house was his bed. He quietly entered his bedroom, tossed his robe over the back of a chair, and toed off his now damp and annoyingly cold slippers before lifting the covers and sliding into the nest of blankets which were cozily warm from Brennan's body heat.

 _Aaaah, Nirvana!_

He really did have good intentions of not waking his wife . . . but his teeth were chattering, his body was being wracked with shivers, and as wonderful as the blankets felt, it was still a little warmer the closer he got to her body. So he nudged a little closer. Then a little closer still. Then, without really thinking about it, he tucked his frigidly cold toes right between her warm feet and wrapped his frozen arm around her waist, his icy cold fingers landing on her stomach, right below her breasts.

"Eeiiaaayyyyyaaee." Brennan abruptly came awake, her body going from softly pliant to suddenly rigid in an instant before she wriggled violently to escape his arctic embrace and jump out of the bed. In the back of his mind, it occurred to Booth that he'd never heard her make a noise like that one before – part scream, part squeal, most likely not a good thing.

"Booth!" She stood beside the bed, glowering down at him. The angry heat in her eyes would've normally left him feeling singed, but this morning he was just too cold for it to penetrate. "What on earth . . ?" She saw him shiver. "Why are you so cold?"

Booth snuggled back under the covers. "Got locked out when I went to get the paper. Come on back to bed, Bones."

Brennan approached the bed tentatively, lifting the blankets on her side and cautiously sliding back between the sheets. "Keep your hands and feet away from me," she ordered him as she laid down on her back so she could warily watch what he was doing.

Booth's core was starting to warm up enough that he was no longer shivering, but when he rested his hand on his abdomen, he quickly realized that his fingers were still as cold as ice. He turned on his side, facing his wife, and got an idea.

Beneath the blankets, he slipped his hand under her t-shirt, careful not to touch her skin.

"What are you doing?" she asked nervously.

"Shhh. I wanna try something," he told her softly. When his hand was hovering just above her breast, he reached down and pinched her nipple between three fingers, starting softly, then squeezing a little harder and a little harder until he could feel the puckered nubbin resisting any more pressure.

Brennan sucked in a breath. "Booth."

His name was gasped as both a chastisement and a plea for more.

"How does that feel?" he asked after several seconds had passed of him holding her, squeezing her.

 _Pleasantly painful_ was the thought that first came to Brennan's mind. His icy touch coupled with the hard pinching pressure he was applying were definitely uncomfortable, but in a way that sent delicious tingles out from her breasts and she certainly recognized the resulting signs of her body's arousal. "It's extremely erotic."

Booth pulled his hand back. "Take your clothes off."

Brennan did as she was told, tossing her t-shirt and panties to the floor even though less than five minutes earlier, she hadn't wanted him to touch her at all. Now she was almost ready to beg for it. She laid back down with the blankets over her waist, but her upper torso exposed to her husband.

Booth repeated his nipple pinch on her other breast, the one closest to him, holding her tightly between his fingers as he watched her creamy skin flush a light pink. He released her nipple and immediately clamped down on it with his mouth, sucking her breast between his lips and laving the now cool tip with his warm tongue.

Brennan's eyes fell closed and she tilted her head back, arching into him. The sensation of going from the extreme cold of his fingers to the warmth of his mouth had her mewling in appreciation and she could feel the moisture building between her thighs.

As Booth nibbled, nipped, and suckled her breast, he dropped his still cold hand down to the soft curls that covered her most sensitive area. He felt her stiffen briefly before relaxing and shifting her legs to make room for his touch. She sucked in her breath when he slid his chilly fingers through the warm lips of her slit. Again, the contrast between the warmth of her body and coolness of his heightened her sensitivity and her soft moans audibly let Booth know how much she was enjoying his ministrations.

He kept up an unpredictable pattern of stroking the lips of her labia, teasing her clitoris, and sliding into her channel as he worked to build her pleasure. Between her warmth and the heat his own body was now putting out, any lingering coolness in his skin was rapidly dissipating and he figured they were both getting close to the point of being ready to explode.

Shoving his boxers down just enough to free his penis, Booth rolled on top of her and in a single thrust, embedded his cock as deep as he could get in her body. Brennan wrapped herself around him, her arms slipping under his t-shirt to encircle his back and her legs twining around hips, pulling him into her as close as possible. She matched him thrust for thrust in a frenzy of movement until he pushed her over the edge. The clenching of her inner muscles on his cock as her orgasm rocketed through her was enough to initiate Booth's release as well.

They laid just like that for several minutes in the aftermath as their breathing returned to normal exchanging small, soft kisses or simple caresses while the blood in their veins cooled. Finally, Booth lifted himself up enough to bear his weight on his elbows, looking down at his incredible wife. "I'm not cold anymore."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Anyone else still cold?_


	8. Chapter 8 - Gingerbread

**A/N:** _So, here's my token nod to tomorrow's Super Bowl 50. The word prompt for this one is Gingerbread._

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (2/6/16)

* * *

 _I have a favor to ask._

Six little words.

The longest one only five letters, and the only word in the sentence complicated enough to include two syllables.

But with a friendship that spanned over a decade, Temperance Brennan should've considered that Angela Montenegro didn't need big words or complex sentences to pack a wallop. Instead, she was lulled into complacency by the simple request.

"Sure, Ange. What's up?"

"It's for Hodgins."

"Oh. Okay." Ever since the accident that had left him paralyzed a couple months earlier, Brennan and Booth (and many others they work with) had expressed to both Angela and Hodgins that they only need ask if there was anything they needed. "Of course. I'll do whatever I can for you guys."

"Well, you know that I am always on the lookout for ways to cheer him up these days, right?"

"Yes."

"I thought this weekend, we could invite some of his buddies over to our house to watch the Super Bowl. This year, we have the Panthers battling against the Broncos."

Brennan gritted her teeth together and scrunched up her face in displeasure. "Angela, you know I don't like to support events that utilize animals in combat as entertainment."

"That's okay, Sweetie." Being familiar with her best friend's limited knowledge about current cultural events, Angela didn't even blink an eye at Brennan's misunderstanding. "There are no actual animals involved. Just a bunch of large, burly men running around trying to catch a ball and banging into or jumping on one another. Panthers and Broncos are their team names, not real animals."

"Oh. All right. So what do you need from us?"

"I was hoping you guys could come over on Sunday afternoon for our Super Bowl party. Booth can hang out and watch the game with the guys and you could help me with something special I've planned."

"Hmm." Brennan started to feel her first niggle of trepidation as to what she was about to get herself into.

"So here's where the favor part comes in." Angela handed Brennan a page she tore from a magazine advertising a handful of costumes, one of which was circled in bold, red marker. "Now that Christmas is over, these costumes are on sale for only about $5.00, so I bought one for each of us. I thought it might be fun for Hodgins and the guys if we dressed up in these special outfits and took care of them during the game . . . you know, refilling their drinks, making sure the chip bowl has plenty of chips, things like that."

"You realize –"

"No, no, no." Angela threw up her hands and interrupted Brennan before she could get started. "I don't want to hear any of your anthropological mumbo-jumbo about the roles of men versus women in society or the objectification of women as sexual objects or anything like that. I'm just talking about having some fun. Lighthearted F-U-N. It's a guaranteed way to put a smile on my husband's face and it'll be more enjoyable for me if my best friend plays along with me too."

Brennan silently contemplated Angela's request, then studied the paper in her hands, finally shrugging her shoulders as she capitulated. "Why not? Dressing up in Sexy Gingerbread Girl costumes does sound kind of fun."

* * *

On Super Bowl Sunday, Booth and Brennan dropped their kids off to spend some time with their grandfather, Max, who had offered to keep them overnight. Brennan's costume was still at Angela's house and they were going to change outfits together once all the guests had arrived. In addition to Booth, Hodgins was expecting Aubrey, Wendell, Clark, and two other guys he was buddies with, Jake and Mitchell, from another department within the Jeffersonian. Once everyone had arrived and staked out their seats in front of the big TV for the pre-game shenanigans, beers in hand, Brennan and Angela went to change into their Gingerbread Girl outfits.

Because of the way the seating worked out, Booth was the first one to see the girls when they came into the room a little while later, right before kick-off, each carrying a small platter of some hors d'oeuvres. His hand holding his beer froze half way en route to his mouth.

Of course, Booth's gaze immediately honed in on Brennan, barely giving Angela a glance, and the look in his eyes was enough to make Brennan think Angela's idea was absolutely brilliant.

The first thing that he noticed was her legs. Above the ruby red high heeled shoes she wore, those long and slender legs he loved so much were showcased in a pair of red-and-white candy cane striped thigh highs that had a lacy trim at the top decorated with several small red bows. He could tell how the top of the stockings looked because the caramel colored mini-dress she wore with the white rickrack icing trim along the bottom was so short, it barely covered her lady parts.

Booth swallowed. Hard.

The mini dress hugged her waist in a snug embrace with its corset-like candy-bejeweled top that ended just above her bosom, pushing up and emphasizing the swell of her breasts. Other than some deep red ruffled off-the-shoulder straps, her shoulders were bare, but she wore a silky red ribbon choker around her neck to complete the outfit.

Angela's costume was the same design and while she also looked incredibly sexy in the get-up, she didn't have the same womanly curves and proportions that Brennan did which held Booth so enthralled.

Throughout the game, the women traipsed in and out of the room, keep the refreshments replenished. Knowing an empty beer bottle would bring the in-house entertainment shimmying back into the room had all of the men drinking a little more enthusiastically than they had originally planned and by half-time, they were all bordering on drunk.

Mitchell, a native North Carolinian, was the only one there with a vested interest in the game. To the rest, it was football, and fun to watch, but no one had a strong allegiance to either team and by the start of the fourth quarter, the game had faded into background noise as the inebriated men started to act like inebriated men.

They burped.

They cussed.

They made rude comments and told each other dirty jokes.

When the game was over, Brennan helped Angela clean up the kitchen and call cabs for the men who needed rides home. She could hear Booth and Hodgins singing together in the other room, but couldn't pick out the lyrics.

"Oh Lordy," Angela muttered. "Sounds like Jack broke out some of the Irish tunes. Can I just apologize now?"

Brennan looked at her quizzically. "It sounds like they're having fun. That's good right? That's what you wanted, correct?"

"Oh, yeah. That's what I wanted." She smiled. "Thanks, Bren. This was good for him."

Brennan chuckled. "Well, I think Booth had fun too, although he's going to pay for it tomorrow morning when he has to get up and go to work."

The girls went to join their men.

"C'mon, Booth. It's time for us to go home," Brennan said to her extremely inebriated husband as she slung one of his arms over her shoulder, wrapped her own arm around his waist, and helped him stumble from the Hodgins living room out to the SUV.

Booth leaned close to her ear and whispered in a not-so-quiet voice "Have I told you how be-a-u-ti-ful you look in that outfit tonight, Bones? Yooou're _HOT_. Totally hot."

She smiled as she buckled him in and went around to the driver's side. "You may have mentioned it once, or twice, or ten times or so."

"Well, it's true. You're _sexaliciously_ hot."

"I don't think that's a real word, Booth," she answered as she pulled out into traffic.

"Don' care. Is true. Jus wanna eat you up."

"Because I'm dressed like a gingerbread cookie?"

"That too. Hey. Hodgins taught me a new song. Wanna hear my new song?"

"Sure, Booth." She figured there was no harm in humoring him and it was kind of fun to see him acting so silly.

" _Has anyone seen my cock_

 _My Big Rhode Island Red_

 _He's mostly pink with a little bit of blue_

 _And purple on his head_

 _He stands straight up in the morning_

 _And he gives my wife a shock – Eek!_

 _Has anybody seen, anybody seen_

 _Anybody, anybody seen my cock"_

Brennan tried to ignore that his singing was off-key, but she couldn't fully restrain the smile that tilted the side of her mouth at his antics. He'd obviously had fun tonight at the "Guys Night" Angela had organized for Hodgins to help cheer him up and she thought the night was a success from that perspective.

" _He's a stiff necked little upstart_

 _And I've known him all my life_

 _He's my pride and my pleasure_

 _And a torment to my wife_

 _Sometimes he's magnificent_

 _And sometimes small and thin_

 _But he puffs up like a pigeon_

 _When you tickle him under the chin"_

Brennan couldn't help but laugh. The song might be about a rooster, but the lyrics were quite bawdy. She glanced over at her husband and sighed. The kids were gone until tomorrow, but there'd be no bow-chicka-bow-wow for them tonight. She was just hoping Booth wouldn't pass out before she could get him home and tucked into bed.

Regardless, she was keeping the costume for another time.

* * *

A/N: _OK. Not my finest hour. The song lyrics are from The Cockerel Song by Ivor Biggun, a British musician, from a 1980s album "More Filth! Dirt Cheap". I was only going to put in a few lines, just to show Booth acting silly, but couldn't find a good place to stop until I put in 2 full verses._


	9. Ch 9 - Presents

**A/N:** _Surprise! I'm still here. 5546Laura harangued me last night for not doing my FF part lately. Here you go, Laura. (PS – I would've posted it anyway. I mean it. Really! Sleep wasn't even on my agenda.)_

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (8/5/16)

* * *

Brennan entered the house feeling pleasantly exhausted. The instructor of the evening yoga class that she attended twice a week with Angela and Daisy had really put them through the paces today and her muscles had that stretched and tired feeling that also ironically made them feel refreshed and revitalized.

Looking down at the empty water bottle in her hand that she should've refilled before leaving the yoga studio, she headed to the kitchen in search of a cold drink to quench her thirst and was startled to see Booth sitting at the kitchen counter surrounded by all of their Christmas wrapping paper and supplies. Scissors in one hand and tongue poking out slightly from the side of his mouth, he was entirely focused on the piece of paper he was carefully currently cutting off the spool.

"Booth?"

Booth glanced up. "Oh, hey Bones. I didn't hear you come in. How was yoga?"

"Yoga was fine. Very intense tonight. What are you doing?"

"Cutting out squares of wrapping paper."

Brennan rolled her eyes and pursed her lips. "I can see that, but it seems a little early to begin wrapping Christmas presents, even for someone who loves Christmas as much as you do. It is still only August, Booth."

"Yeah, Bones. I know what month it is." He leaned both his elbows on the counter top and watched his wife as she filled her water bottle from the spigot in the refrigerator door and then took a drink. "This is for Christine's Daisy girl scout troop. When I picked her up from her meeting this afternoon, their troop leader said they were putting together a care package to send to some military troops overseas as their Christmas in August service project. Each of the girls in the troop got tasked with an 'at home' project to complete which you know basically means each of the parents got tasked with a project to do. I have to wrap 100 individual toothbrushes before her next troop meeting next week."

"Christmas . . . . In August." Brennan sounded skeptical as she studied Booth, but then she shrugged her shoulders. "Well, there's enough debate amongst the scholars that study religion to suggest Jesus was not actually born on December 25th, so I suppose August may be just as accurate as December."

"No way, Bones." Booth argued. "Nope, Jesus was born on December 25th in a manger in Bethlehem and Christmas is all about celebrating his birth and God's decision to send his son into our world."

"If you feel that strongly about it, then don't you think doing a Christmas in August activity diminishes the religious importance of the Christmas holiday celebration?"

"Well, sure, it makes the holiday which is already too commercial even more so, but I also know what it's like to be a soldier serving in a foreign land and how much it means to receive care packages from home. When groups like the scouts or church organizations or school clubs put together a gift box with simple items like toothbrushes, batteries, chapstick, or tic tacs, the guys on the receiving end really, really appreciate it. Packages aren't as plentiful mid-summer as they are around the actual holidays, so I'm all for sending out a gift box. I wish Christine's troop leader had given the activity another name, but I'm happy that she's encouraging the girls in the troop to think about some of the little things we all take for granted that other people can't easily access and the importance of supporting our military troops. Besides, we should be allowed to give gifts anytime we think it will bring someone else happiness, regardless of the time of year, right?"

Brennan smiled, the pride she felt in her husband and his constant devotion to the armed forces despite his own harrowing experiences reflected on her face. "Yes, Booth. You're right. Gift giving shouldn't be limited to just birthdays or Christmas if giving the gift can bring happiness to whomever receives it. How many toothbrushes have you wrapped so far?"

Booth looked down at his box of wrapped brushes and his box of unwrapped brushes. "Uh . . . three."

"Three? Out of 100?" Brennan shook her head in wonder. "Scoot over, Booth. I'll give you a hand."

"Thanks, Bones."

* * *

It was several days later, after Booth finished reading his goodnight, bedtime stories with Christine and poked his head into Hank's room to check on the sleeping baby that he walked into his bedroom and found a small wrapped present sitting in the center of his pillow. He glanced over at his wife who was sitting in bed, propped up by pillows against the headboard, reading an article. "What's this?" They'd finished wrapping the rest of the toothbrushes the night before and this box wasn't the right size or shape anyway.

"Just a little present I picked up for you," she answered with a flirtatious grin.

Booth approached the bed and picked up the gift, giving it a quick shake to see if it rattled. "Yeah? How come?"

"For pleasure. Yours and mine." Brennan set aside her article and curled her legs underneath her, leaning over towards Booth. "You said the other night that it should be acceptable to give someone a gift anytime if the gift will bring them happiness. Well, based on what Angela has described to me about her recent experiences with Hodgins, I feel certain that this gift will bring you significant happiness."

Booth eyed the box in his hand with a mixed sense of excitement and trepidation. The last time Angela gave Bones an idea of something new to try _for pleasure_ , Booth could barely walk for a week afterwards. That had been an awesomely amazing experience, but certainly brought home to him that he was no longer a twenty-something year old kid whose body could just bounce back from that kind of unaccustomed strenuous activity. Damn, but it had been worth every subsequent ache and pain though, that was for sure.

He stroked his finger along the front of the shiny red and gold wrapping paper wondering what it might be. His curiosity was killing him but he had to admit, he was a little nervous too.

Brennan cocked her head inquisitively. "Aren't you going to open it?"

"Yeah. Absolutely, Bones. It's a present, so of course I'm gonna open it. I'm just cherishing the novelty of receiving it for a moment." He slid his finger into the seam between the pieces of tape and began to pull. _It's a fairly small box_ , he thought, _so how bad can it really be?_ Booth tore the paper and pulled it from the box, wadding it into a ball in his fist as he read the product label on the plain black box. "The Pulse II Duo?" He glanced at Brennan and the excited twinkle in her eye confirmed for him that it was likely something sexual even though the picture on the box looked more like a hollowed out miniature football. "Um, what exactly am I looking at here, Bones?"

Brennan slipped the box from his hand and opened the lid so she could remove the object inside as he sat down beside her. "It's a male vibrator, sometimes called a guybrator in slang. During the last decade or so, penile vibratory stimulation has been revolutionary in allowing fertility specialist to enable men who have suffered spinal cord injuries, strokes, or a number of other afflictions resulting in erectile dysfunction to achieve erections, orgasm and ejaculation. Angela was telling me –"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa. Stop. Just . . . . stop right there. If you're wanting you and me to use this, this sex toy, then I do NOT need to know anything at all about Angela and Hodgins' experiences with it. The last thing I want to be thinking about when I'm in bed with you is bug boy's penis issues."

Brennan chuckled. "That's fair, Booth. However, what I was going to say was that this particular model is not used as frequently in the medical environment so Angela and Hodgins have been experimenting with something different. This one is specially design to be used for male masturbation," she slid her thumb in and out of the hollowed out section of the vibrator, simulating where the penis would go, "or during foreplay between lovers." Booth felt his arousal growing just watching her play with the toy. "This vibrator is designed with a special oscillating pulsing vibration technology such that when you slip the sleeve over your penis like so . . . you could then pressed your penis up against my clitoris, with either one of us being on top, and we could both simultaneously feel the vibrations."

Brennan handed the toy back to Booth. "A tandem vibrator, huh? How do you turn it on?"

They were sitting side by side now, her chest tucked up close against his shoulder as she leaned into his personal space and pointed. "There are a couple small buttons right here on the side that turn it on and control the intensity." She leaned slightly away, reaching for the box again, dumping the contents into her hand. "Alternatively, there's also a remote control."

Booth quickly snatched the small round remote as soon as it landed in the palm of her hand. "Uh uh. No way. This is mine. You are not allowed to have the remote." She'd kill him if he let her have that much control. What a way to go, but he wanted to enjoy himself a bit more first.

Brennan pulled a tube of KY jelly out of the nightstand, then leaned in and placed a soft kiss just below his earlobe, where his jaw ended. Then she trailed her lips back and forth along the edge of his jawline with more gentle nibbling kisses until she could hear the pattern of his breathing shift. Biting down softly on his earlobe, she gave a small tug. "So, Agent Booth," her breath was a husky whisper across his skin, "are you feeling adventurous tonight?"

Booth snorted. "Well, Dr. Brennan, it seems to me that you're in the mood for doing a little experimentation tonight and I certainly wouldn't want to be accused of standing in the way of scientific inquiry." Booth turned his head so he could easily capture her lips with his own. It wasn't long until their kisses turned from teasing and playful to deep and carnal. Tongues twining, lips sucking, mouths devouring.

Booth tossed the toy into the middle of the bed and shifted his body so he could lean over her more, forcing her onto her back. They both understood without saying it that the new toy was intended to enhance their foreplay, but it wasn't the entirety of their foreplay. They'd get to it, but first, as they each shed articles of clothing, there was still pleasure to be had in a kiss here or a caress there, the press of naked flesh against naked flesh.

They weren't in a rush and took the time to enjoy their lovemaking at a leisurely pace.

It wasn't until Booth felt the slick moisture between Brennan's legs and he was convinced that she was just as aroused as he was that he reached for the Pulse II Duo and flipped onto his back on the bed. "Show me."

Brennan reached for the abandoned tube of jelly before curling her fingers around his cock. She applied a dollop here and a dollop there, her hand gliding back and forth to make sure he was evenly coated with enough lubricant that he wouldn't chafe, especially given his girth relative to the size of the toy. Then she slid the vibratory sleeve over the tip of his penis until his cock was properly positioned and nestled snuggly inside. "Ready?"

"Ready as I'm going to be." Booth used the remote to start the device on a low level. Brennan watched as he jumped a little in surprise when the first pulse hit him. Even though he'd been expecting it, the sensations still startled him at first.

"How is it?" she asked after a moment had passed. She wasn't exactly certain how to read the expressions flitting across his face.

 _How is it?_ Booth didn't quite know how to describe the sensation in words. It was definitely unlike anything he'd experienced before. It was thrilling, for sure. It sent tingles of pleasure throughout his body, starting from the head of his cock and echoing outward until even his fingertips felt more sensitized. It was also a little overwhelming to his senses. Part of him wanted to squirm away from the vibrations for a moment's respite, but a bigger part of him wanted more. "It's . . . . ooh," Booth's fists clenched around the bedding as he rotated his hips, not wanting to just lay still. "It's good . . . Good . . . mmmhmm, very good."

Brennan reached out with just the tip of her finger and captured the pearl of pre-cum beaded on the head of his cock, smoothing it around his head, causing Booth to gasp and suck in his breath from the added stimulation of her fingertip. He wanted to feel more of her. After all, she'd said this toy was for both their pleasures. "Join me, Bones."

So she did. Brennan gave him a kiss as she lifted her leg over his torso and straddled him, pressing her core against his core with the new toy snuggled between them. She shifted herself around on him a couple times until she found the spot that felt best. "Oh. Oh, yes. That is . . . . mmmm . . . that is nice."

"Hands."

Brennan leaned forward over Booth, arms straight, and placed her hands in his against the mattress. Their fingers entwined, locked together, as they gazed back at each other and rocked back and forth.

In the early days of their sexual relationship, Brennan had shied away from suggesting they include any sort of sexual aid in their encounters. Booth's words from years earlier about people relying on gimmicks to mask crappy sex still echoed in her head and she didn't want Booth to ever view their interactions as crappy sex. She certainly didn't. It wasn't until Booth had brought a sex toy into their bed sport late in her first pregnancy that they actually had an open and frank discussion about their views on sexual aids and Booth clarified that crappy sex was when people used gimmicks, toys, or fetishes as the main stimulant in their interactions. Without the prop, there was nothing else of substance between the parties. But, when a man and a woman loved each other, loved being together and touching, intimately or just casually, when toys and games and role playing weren't necessary for a couple to find pleasure together, then those items could be used to supplement the sexual antics without becoming the whole sexual experience. Making love is about two people sharing their hearts and their bodies with a partner. While the physical release that accompanies an orgasm is a definite upside of lovemaking, true lovemaking is about pleasuring your partner, physically and emotionally.

Needless to say, thoughts of crappy sex no longer concerned Brennan. She and Booth had proven many times that they could satisfy one another without depending on external props. Secure in that knowledge, they'd been free to explore their sexuality whether that meant role playing as a librarian or a western outlaw, mimicking the antics of certain tribal cultures, complete with tribal masks, or now, using a guybrator - at the core, it was still all about the two of them.

This particular night, the Pulse II Duo lived up to its reputation. With plenty of kisses and caresses exchanged between the lovers as they explored the benefits of their new toy, the gentle 'oohs' and 'aahs' eventually gave way to more intense exclamations as they both reached that peak that left them reeling and panting for breath.

"Wow. Bones, that was . . . wow."

"I'd say that was a much better present than a fruit cake."

* * *

 **A/N:** _While she might not realize it, my inspiration for the first half of this one came in part from anne1585. She made a comment several weeks ago about how I didn't have to limit myself to just a Christmas present specifically since not all my entries in this challenge are tied to Christmas and I thought to myself, that's mostly because I've been soooo slow and who wants to read about Christmas in July or August? And then I thought, hey – Christmas in August. . . I can work with that. So – thanks anne1585! Hope folks enjoyed it._


	10. Ch 10 - Cookies

**Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (8/7/16)

* * *

Booth pulled his SUV into the driveway of the house he shared with Dr. Temperance Brennan and felt the quiet peace of finally being home settle pleasantly around him like a warm blanket on a cool winter morning. A glance at the clock mounted in the dashboard indicated it was well after nine o'clock. That meant the kids would be tucked into bed and already sleeping. Possibly his wife, too.

It had been a real bitch of a day and he was beyond exhausted.

As was often the case, earlier that morning, Bones had discovered some anomalies in the skeletal remains of an eight year old little boy whose body had been delivered to the Jeffersonian lab a couple of days earlier. Anomalies that, coupled with other evidence her team had discovered, allowed them to confidently recreate the scenario leading to the demise of the young boy and identify an abusive uncle as the boy's killer. As a result, Booth had spent the latter part of the day sitting behind his desk in his office up to his elbows in paperwork. There was no way he was going to let this son-of-a-bitch get off on a technicality or because the evidence wasn't documented and recorded properly. Booth checked over everything for completeness and accuracy, double checked it, and triple checked it again. Tomorrow morning, a nice big pile of neatly typed and highly organized files would be dropped on Ms. Caroline Julian's desk so she could do her part to ensure the guilty bastard spent the rest of his life behind bars.

Booth heaved himself out of the truck with a sigh, his feet feeling like leaden weights at the ends of his legs as he shuffled towards his front door. There was definite satisfaction in solving the case and knowing the killer would be brought to justice, but it was tempered by the sadness of knowing a young child's life had been futilely cut short because of one man's selfishly unforgiveable actions.

 _Cases involving kids were always the worst_ , he thought, flipping his keys around in his hand to find the one that would get him into the house. While he had his own demons to wrestle with when he looked at the remains of a child, he knew cases concerning kids really gutted Bones too. She'd become cool, unemotional, and distant – treating the body and everything else about the investigation as clinically as possible as though she could erect a fortress around her heart that way to actually protect it. But Booth knew that the more remote she acted and the bigger the words she threw into her speech was directly proportional to the suffering she felt inside. He was looking forward to just wrapping her up in his arms and holding her close until the wonder and confusion over how someone could turn a helpless child into a victim faded into the background until the next time such ugliness reared its head again.

Brennan looked up from where she sat on the sofa, bare feet propped up against the coffee table and laptop balanced on her thighs, as Booth entered the house. "Booth."

She said his name in that way that was uniquely hers – it was a familiar greeting, a soothing caress, a warm welcome, and an invitation to linger all rolled into one. Just hearing his name on her lips was enough to remind him that there was goodness and beauty in his life to help balance the evilness and the ugliness that sometimes felt a little overwhelming. He felt better already.

"Hey, Bones." Booth tossed his keys into a nearby bowl and threw his suit jacket over the back of the nearest chair. "You're still up. With the hours you put in the last couple days, I half expected you to be in bed by now."

"No, not yet. I'm reviewing an article that has been submitted for publication in _The Journal of Anthropological Archeology_ for technical accuracy and writing style. It always astounds me how many highly educated and supposedly intelligent scientists struggle with writing sentences that adhere to the basic rules of English grammar."

"Yeah." Booth didn't think he'd understand half of what was written, regardless of how good or bad the grammar was. "Whatever you say, Bones."

Brennan's eyes took in Booth's haggard appearance. There were periorbital dark circles under his eyes and his hair was mussed like he'd run his fingers through it many times. His tie was loose around his neck and the top few buttons of his shirt were open. Most telling, his shoulders drooped like the weight they'd been carrying had finally worn them down.

"You look tired." She slid her laptop onto the coffee table and stood up, reaching out for his hand and pulling him towards the sofa. "Did you eat anything for dinner?"

Booth let her lead him and dropped down gratefully onto the couch, kicking off his shoes. "Yeah. Aubrey brought by some food and kept me company for a bit while we finalized the details of the reports." He leaned his head back against the sofa and closed his eyes.

"How about a cold beer?"

"That sounds great. Really, really great."

Brennan hopped up to grab a beer from the refrigerator. When she returned, she handed Booth his beer but stayed standing behind him. Reaching out, she began to massage his scalp. She applied gentle but firm pressure in a circular motion starting at his temples, then moving forward and back, up and down, until he could feel the magic of her fingers relieving the stress from his entire cranium, forehead to nape.

"Aaaaahhhh," Booth groaned. "That feels absolutely fantastic."

Brennan smiled, happy she could use her knowledge of the human body to do something so simple to help him relax. She continued her massage and they chatted softly while Booth slowly drank his beer.

"Did you get the paperwork all wrapped up?"

"Yeah. It's all bundled up and ready to go to Caroline. How were the kids tonight? You know I hate when I miss their bedtime."

"The kids were fine, but Christine was asking about you. She still gets nervous sometimes at night when you don't come home. She read that story about baby animals to Hank after their baths and he kept pointing to all the animals and saying 'duck.' I think it frustrated her at first, but then it became a game between them and they had fun together. She's reading quite well for her age."

"Of course she is, Bones. Look at how smart her Dad is," he teased.

Brennan tugged sharply on a tuft of his hair.

"I meant Mom. Look at how smart her Mom is."

Brennan rolled her eyes at him, even though he couldn't see with her standing at his back. "While my IQ is obviously highest, she is fortunate enough to have TWO exceptionally intelligent parents and we've both spent a lot of time reading with her. I think we each deserve some of the credit."

Booth chuckled as he finished his last swallow of beer, then sighed. "I'm beat."

Brennan plucked the empty bottle from his fingers and headed back to the kitchen. "Why don't you go on ahead to bed then."

"You coming?" he asked as he stood up.

"No. Not quite yet. I want to review a little more of that article I was working on when you came home."

"Right, for the _Journal of Geniuses_."

Brennan frowned at him. "That's not what it's called, Booth."

He smiled. "I know, but it should be, 'cause you're a genius. C'mere."

Brennan stepped towards his outstretched hand and let him pull her into his embrace, her arms naturally slipping around his waist as his arms wound around her shoulders. He kissed the top of her head as she nuzzled in to his neck. "Mmmm. I needed this. Just to be able to hold you," he said, pulling her even closer.

Her arms tightened around him. "Me, too," came the softly voiced confession as the strong front she'd been portraying for the past couple days finally gave way to a shuddered sob and the tears she'd held inside ever since she first saw the body of the young boy were finally allowed free, dampening Booth's shirtfront. Seeing the bodies of children on her examination table had never been easy, but since she'd become a mother several years earlier, she couldn't help but draw parallels and think about how devastated she'd feel if one of her children were ever such a victim.

They stood that way for several minutes, giving and taking comfort from each other, before Booth finally gave her one more squeeze. "I'm gonna head off to bed. Don't stay up too late, okay?"

"No, just a little bit more. I'll be in shortly."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

Booth gave Brennan a quick kiss on the lips. Then, he pulled away and headed towards the bedroom. Brennan sat back down feeling much lighter at heart after giving her sorrow an outlet and reached for her laptop.

For the next half hour, she could subconsciously hear Booth in the background getting ready for bed. She heard him opening and closing drawers as he took off his work clothes and gathered up his pajamas. She heard him start the shower to rinse away the grime of the day, singing tunelessly as he washed. And, just as she was adding a few final notes to the paper she was reviewing, she heard the water in the sink running as he brushed his teeth.

Booth could barely keep his eyes open. The long day, cool beer, gentle scalp massage, and steaming hot shower had all combined to make him very sleepy. Wearing boxers and a t-shirt, he climbed into bed and turned off his bedside lamp. He wanted to just sleep for a week.

And then he felt it on his bicep.

That annoying little sharp, gritty feeling poking into your skin.

Like when a small pebble gets stuck in your sandal at the beach. Not painful per se, but certainly distracting and uncomfortable. Enough so that he couldn't just ignore it.

Booth sat up, turned on the light, and spied the peanut butter cookie crumb stuck to his arm. Brushing it away, he turned out the light and lay back down.

Then he felt it again. Another crumb.

With a growl of frustration, he sat back up, turned the light back on and hopped out of bed just as his wife was entering their room. "Booones," he growled at her as he yanked the covers down towards the foot of the bed.

"What's wrong, Booth?"

"What's wrong? What's wrong? There are cookie crumbs in our bed, Bones. That's what's wrong."

"Oh." Brennan leaned over the bed, brushing the surface of the sheet with her fingers in an attempt to clear it off. "I'll put clean sheets on the bed in the morning."

"I'm tired and I just want to go to sleep without feeling like I'm being rolled up like a pastry. Why do you have to eat cookies in our bed anyway?"

Brennan shrugged, ignoring his irritability. "Sometimes I like having something sweet to nibble on while I read. If there are crumbs in the sheets from last night, that's as much your fault as mine."

"My fault?"

"Yes."

"How is it my fault? They're your cookies."

Brennan bristled indignantly. "If you'll recall, I was peacefully reading a magazine and minding my own business on my side of the bed when you –"

"Oh. Right."

"- attacked me and –"

"Stop! I remember, now."

"- started doing that irresistible thing that I enjoy so much –"

"Stop. Stop. Stop. You're right." Booth held up both hands, palms out.

"- and you didn't even give me a chance to set aside the cookie I still had in my hand."

Booth sighed. "I'm sorry, Bones. I'm just tired and cranky. You're right. If I hadn't . . . you know, and then you hadn't . . . and we didn't . . . " Booth waved his arms over the bed as the tips of his ears turned red.

Brennan leaned into him and gave him a kiss, a tender melding of their mouths which reassured them both that there were no hard feelings. As she pulled away, she smirked. "Personally, I thought it was worth a few crumbs."

Booth smoothed his hands over the sheets one more time before crawling back into bed and pulling the covers back up. "Well, I suppose we wouldn't have nearly as much fun if we were always worried about keeping the sheets clean. I love you, Bones, peanut butter cookies, crumbs, and all."

* * *

 **A/N:** _Hmm. This one was not nearly as upbeat as I imagined starting out, but I'm afraid that if I waited for new inspiration to strike, I may never finish this challenge. Alas, you get what you get. Hope you enjoyed it!_


	11. Ch 11 - Christmas Carols

**A/N:** _Eleven down, one to go. I am the turtle and not the hare._

* * *

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (9/4/16)

* * *

Angela Montenegro, Jeffersonian artiste extraordinaire, strode through the open door to Brennan's office, the strident clickity-clack of her heels echoing the focused purpose behind her visit. "Hey, Brennan. I was able to pull a reflection off that photograph that you – wait a sec," she paused mid-sentence, staring in dumbfounded surprise at her best friend. "Were you just humming?"

Brennan looked up, startled. "What? No." She shook her head in denial, a mock expression of innocence on her face. "No, of course not. Don't be ludicrous. Why would I be humming?"

Angela planted a fist on her hip and gave Brennan an extremely skeptical look. She wasn't buying what her friend was selling. At all. "Mmmhmm. You were totally humming, Sweetie."

"What did you find in the photograph?" Brennan attempted to change the subject back to Angela's original purpose for stopping by.

"In a minute. First, I want to know what put you in such a good mood that it left you so cheerfully humming." A wicked grin spread across her face and she wagged her eyebrows. "Was it Booth? Oh, please tell me he did something positively delicious to you that even now, several hours into the workday, has you still floating on cloud 9."

Brennan frowned at such an absurd notion. "You can't float on a cloud, Ange. You'd fall right through."

With an airy wave of her hand, Angela dismissed that concern. "I didn't catch the tune when I walked in. Was it a sexy song? Were you picturing him only partially clothed in your mind's eye while you hummed? I know that would make me hum."

Brennan sighed. She knew Angela well enough to know she wasn't going to just drop the topic without some sort of explanation. "No. It has nothing to do with Booth."

"Oh." Angela's face fell in disappointment. "So I guess that means he didn't give you a happy start to your morning, huh?"

Brennan started to respond in the negative, then remembered just what _had_ transpired that morning before the kids woke up and couldn't restrain her own little smile. "I didn't say that, just that it's not why I was humming."

Angela chuckled, always happy to hear things were going well for her friend and Booth, especially since it had taken them so long to get to where they were. "So you admit you were humming then?"

Brennan was embarrassed. "It's nothing, really. It's just . . . Christine was watching cartoon re-runs this morning. There was a Christmas episode on and the characters were all singing a Christmas carol together, then after the show was over, Christine kept singing it to Hank while we got ready this morning. Ever since then, I've not been able to get that silly song out of my head."

"Hmmm," Angela nodded in sympathy having been in Brennan's shoes before. "Earworms can be a real nuisance."

Brennan frowned. "I didn't say anything about having worms in my ears, Ange. Just a song playing over and over in my head."

"I know, Sweetie. That's what an earworm is – a pesky song that just won't leave you alone. What you need is a good distraction." Angela handed Brennan the file with the photo that she had carried into the office with her. "Let me tell you what it is I found . . ."

.

.

.

Booth pulled his SUV up outside of the diner, looking for a place to park, but there didn't seem to be any spots available right out front. Spying his wife sitting alone at their usual table, he turned to his companion. "Why don't you hop on out and keep Bones company while I find a place to park, Aubrey."

"You got it," he said, reaching for the door and hopping out of the car.

As Aubrey entered the diner, he was grateful to feel the rush of air-conditioning hit him in the face, vanquishing the oppressive heat that was so typical for late summer in Washington D.C.

Dr. Brennan was seated at their usual table, her back to the door because she knew Booth liked to sit facing the entrance where he could watch who was coming and going. Experienced field agents like Booth always sought out locations that gave them the best vantage point for tracking and monitoring what was happening around them. Booth always seemed a bit more twitchy when he got stuck sitting with his back towards the door.

As Aubrey approached the table and reached for the chair next to her, he could hear the faint sounds of her humming unconsciously while she read through her emails on her phone. "Hey there, Dr. Brennan. I didn't know you were musically inclined."

"What?" She looked up at him, startled by his sudden appearance and feeling uncharacteristically flustered. "Oh, I wasn't . . . I'm not . . . it's just . . . It was nothing, Agent Aubrey."

Aubrey gave her a friendly smile of encouragement. "Hey, it's nothing to be embarrassed about. From what little I heard, it sounds like you're pretty good at carrying a tune and coming from a guy that used to sing a cappella competitively, you should consider that a compliment."

Brennan could feel the heated flush on her cheeks, but just gave Aubrey a small head nod to acknowledge his comment. "Thank you, James. Where's Booth?"

"Oh, he's searching for a parking place and he'll be here in a couple minutes, I'm sure." Aubrey flipped open a copy of the menu and started scrolling through the options. "So, I know Booth has mentioned that you two both enjoy listening to jazz. What were you humming? A little Ella Fitzgerald? Maybe some John Coltrane?"

Brennan heaved a frustrated sigh and leaned on her elbows on the table. "Apparently, I am suffering from an aural nematoda."

Aubrey's eyes opened wide and he looked at her with concern. "Oh, God. I don't have a clue what that means, but it sounds really, really bad. How's Booth dealing with it?"

"Booth?" Brennan shook her head in confusion, brows drawn down in a 'V' between her eyes. "It's got nothing to do with Booth. I've just had the same song playing over and over in my head all morning. Angela tried to distract me for a while, but as soon as our discussion ended, the song was back, echoing in my head, and I'm finding it rather disruptive to my typical focus."

"You mean . . . you have an earworm?"

"Yes. That's what I said. An aural nematoda."

"Aah." Aubrey nodded his head confidently. "It happens to everyone at some time or another and I know just how to help you."

"Really? Oh, that'd be wonderful. What do I need to do?" The hopeful expression she turned his way conveyed just how desperate she was to alleviate her condition.

"Eat some food." He flagged down their waitress and placed an order for some fries to start with.

At the look of skepticism that started to creep across her face, he rushed to explain. "Just hear me out, okay? I read about this a few months ago when I had an earworm of my own and was googling the topic. So, some British researchers hypothesized that there is an overlap between the memory systems for recalling speech and music and those systems responsible for producing speech and music. They claimed a small part of the brain used for processing sound is also required for performing speech and speech involves movement of the jaw, like chewing. They deduced that there was evidence that chewing interferes with the memory patterns for speech, making recall of tunes, specifically pitch and melody they said, more difficult and less vivid because it requires that same small part of the brain that handles both functions to multi-task. They even did brain scans on people and ran some experiments to support their hypothesis and the results showed that the people who were eating had less issues with earworms. If I recall correctly, their results were published in the Journal of Experimental Psychology last year sometime."

"Psychology," Brennan scoffed, watching their waitress place Aubrey's plate of fries in front of him. "I really don't give much credence to psychology, you know."

"Sure. I mean, Booth's mentioned that before a time or two, but hey, what've you got to lose?" He pushed his plate of fries towards her.

With a roll of her eyes, she reached for a fry just as Booth walked by the window on his way to join them.

.

.

.

Booth walked out of the hallway where he'd been tucking their children into bed and found his wife sitting on the couch with her eyes closed, head leaned back, and an open bottle of tequila clenched to her chest by a fist wrapped tightly around the bottle's neck. It was not a common sight and Booth paused, standing in front of her, and wondered what could've upset her enough to merit the tequila.

"You okay there, Bones?"

"Mmm."

Her response was non-committal and didn't tell him anything, so he went to their bar and grabbed two shot glasses. Then, sitting down beside her on the couch, he pulled the tequila bottle from her grasp. "I'll pour us each a shot," he explained with a shrug when he saw her crack open one eye to glare at him for taking her bottle. "It's a more civilized way to drink tequila and seems less, I don't know, desperate somehow."

The bottle was mostly full, so if she'd already had any, it couldn't have been more than a swallow or two. Once both glasses were full, he offered one to his wife. "Here you go. Cheers."

After they both knocked back their shots, Booth turned to her, determined to find out what was bothering her. "So, Bones, you wanna talk about it?"

Brennan hmphff'd and opened her eyes fully, looking right at her husband. "I heard you and Christine singing _Jingle Bells_ while she got ready for bed."

Booths brows shot up. "Oookay." When she didn't say anything else, just sat there looking at him like he was guilty of some crime, he prompted her for more. "I don't get it. Other than the fact that it's late summer, what's so wrong with singing _Jingle Bells_?"

"Aargh." She closed her eyes and leaned her head back against the couch again. "I've been dashing through the snow on a one horse open sleigh all day long, it seems. I've heard that refrain over and over in my head ever since breakfast and I am _not_ laughing all the way." She looked at Booth again, blue eyes piercing him. "I thought I had vanquished the song after lunch with you and Aubrey. Whether it was because of his bizarre idea that eating food would cure me or whether it was just the distraction of your company, I can't say for certain. But, my afternoon was blissfully quiet. Now though, I've got bells on bob tails ringing in my head again." She sighed forlornly. "I was hoping the tequila would help."

Booth chuckled. "Got it. No more _Jingle Bells_ allowed in the house until December." He propped his elbow up on the back of the couch by her shoulder and let his fingertips gently start to tease the edges around the collar of her shirt. "You know, Bones, earworms almost never last beyond a day. Seems to me we just need to find a way to keep your mind preoccupied until you're ready to go to sleep for the night."

"Oh?" She picked up on the playful tone in his voice and her interested perked up. "What did you have in mind?"

Booth's free hand landed softly on her abdomen and his fingers started toying with the bottom most button of her blouse. "Games and puzzles are supposed to be good distractions. We could work on a jigsaw puzzle together. Or, we could play some of Christine's game _Ready, Set, Fun_ if you want. You can be Wendy Whoopee and I'll be Frankie Fireworks again. I won't even complain when you cheat."

"I do not cheat, Booth."

"No, of course not. I must have you confused with someone else."

"You're just upset because you usually lose, that's all." By now, Brennan's hand was on Booth's thigh and her fingers were lightly tracing the in-seam of his pants. "How about a game that's a little more mature, though?"

"Weeell, we could change up the rules a bit. Maybe say that every time one of our pieces lands on a star, we get to collect an article of clothing from our opponent. How's that sound?"

"And when I gain possession of all your clothing?"

"Or I have all of yours . . ."

She snorted. "Unlikely."

He grinned. "Then I guess it's player's choice as to what prize they get next. Seems kinda like a win-win situation to me."

"Deal."

Booth hopped up. "I'll get the game."


	12. Ch 12 - Traditions

**A/N:** _Surprise! I've FINALLY finished! (I may not be quick, but I will persevere! – Take heart GalaxieGurl, your story is not forgotten either)_

 _I know, I know . . . we're not anywhere close to Christmas right now but I was scrolling through some of my old partially written stories and found some text I'd once written that I was finally able to massage enough to incorporate into my 12_ _th_ _prompt and call this challenge complete. (Lord knows, I've started and stopped ideas for this chapter at least a dozen other times)._

 _While I admit the focus of this chapter is not exactly tied to the Bonesology prompt, I do at least include the 12th topic (Christmas music/movies)._

 _Be warned . . . Ending on a bit of a naughty note (Mature audiences only)._

 **Disclaimer** : I own nothing _Bones_ related except my imagination. (3/18/18)

* * *

Brennan stood at the foot of her bed, naked except for the big fluffy lemony yellow bath towel she had wrapped around her torso after her shower and glowered at what was set out in front of her.

It was ridiculous.

Irrational even.

She was a fully formed, mature woman and if her husband wanted to purchase her some sleepwear, then a satin negligée or a silky peignoir, even a barely there lacy teddy, would be perfectly reasonable. Something seductive and sexy that they would both thoroughly enjoy. But . . . this?

She took a deep breath and blew it out again, noisily, because she could.

It was moments like these when she found Booth's enthusiasm for the Christmas holiday and all it entailed to be a bit overwhelming. At that moment, Brennan really wanted to simply say no. She wanted to stomp her feet and pump her arms up and down and shout "enough is enough, I'm not doing it." She wanted to march back into the bathroom, slam the door, and find that when she came out again, this was all just a bad hallucination.

But no.

She couldn't do any of that.

Not without upsetting Booth. And Christine, of course, who loved Christmas and everything to do with it just as much as her father. They'd both look at her with those big, sad eyes, disappointed that her fervor for the holiday didn't quite equal theirs, and without either one saying a word, she'd feel as though she single-handedly destroyed the entire holiday for them each.

No. If she didn't go along with her husband and her daughter, she'd be forever labelled as "Mommy Grinch," a moniker that made much more sense to her now than it would have before Christine was born and one she was strangely reluctant to acquire. She didn't want to be the wet towel to spoil their fun.

With a big sigh of resignation ( _it was really only one night a year anyway_ she tried telling herself), she dropped her towel to the floor and reached down to grab the "hers" half of the "his and hers" holiday fleece footie pajama outfits that Booth had purchased for them _both_ to wear Christmas Eve and into Christmas day and held it up in front of her, reminding herself that she'd long ago stated she'd do anything for Booth and that wearing this, while incredibly silly, would make him extremely happy.

The pajamas were red. Bright, brand-new-just-been-washed-and-waxed-fire-engine red. Except for the parts where it was covered with little cartoon-looking penguins wearing green santa hats and carrying candy canes or Christmas ornaments. They weren't even remotely accurate depictions of authentic penguins, the heads being too round and disproportionate to the body relative to a real penguin and with large googly eyes on the front, not the side, of their craniums. Besides, a penguin couldn't even hold on to something like a candy cane with their flippers.

Pure whimsy.

There were small rubbery circles on the soles of the footies so she wouldn't slip walking on the wooden floors. As she slid her feet into the pajamas and tugged the front zipper all the way from her knee to her chin, she conceded that the soft polyester fleece felt warm and cozy against her bare skin. That aspect was at least somewhat sensuous she acknowledged. Of course, the piece de resistance, as far as she was concerned, was the drop seat. The envelope-style tuck closure, complete with an elastic top and Velcro fasteners that allowed one the ease of using the restroom without having to fully disrobe from the comfy warmth of the pajamas.

Ridiculous.

Brennan looked in the mirror and felt about as sexy as if she'd been wearing a potato sack. She knew Booth was excited about their matching costumes and she just couldn't bring herself to deny him, even if she thought the outfit looked more suited to something she would put on her son, Hank, than herself.

 _The things I do for that man_ she thought as she turned and exited her bedroom to join her family.

* * *

A short while later, world-renowned forensic anthropologist and New York Times best-selling novelist several times over, Dr. Temperance Brennan sat on the sofa, her year-and-a-half old toddler perched in her lap with his head nestled between her breasts, and her daughter seated beside her, curled up against her father's side. The family of four (with parents in matching footie pajamas no less) was watching Dr. Suess' _How The Grinch Stole Christmas_ movie together.

She'd seen the movie at least a dozen times in the last couple years, and let her mind wander, thinking about where she was in her life.

Ten years ago, she'd have scoffed at anyone who would have told Brennan that she would become a primary figure in the stereotypical classic American nuclear family. Husband and wife with a son and a daughter living in a suburban neighborhood and snuggling together on the couch watching Christmas movies together. _All they lacked was a dog named Spot or Rover_.

What was even more surprising to her was just how much a part of her had secretly yearned for precisely this life and how happy and satisfied she felt with where she'd ended up. Cohabitating with Booth in a committed relationship and sharing both physical and emotional intimacies had turned out to be quite rewarding. She still occasionally traveled to remote regions of the world for work related activities, but the trips were fewer in frequency and of shorter duration than in the formative years of her career.

And, she was okay with that.

She had made a conscious evaluation of where her many skills would be most valuable and where she could make the biggest difference and determined that, for now and for the foreseeable future, the best utilization of her time and intellect meant staying in Washington D.C., fulfilling the roles of partner, wife, lover, and mother.

Her family needed her to be with them the most.

She needed to be with them too.

Especially Booth, who she must confess, looked quite delicious in his red outfit, even dotted with inaccurately depicted penguins. Red was a very good color on him. One she found quite enticing.

At the sounds of giggles from her progeny, she cast a covert glance towards her husband. He was just as enchanted with the movie as the kids, wearing a goofy grin on his face as he followed along with the events occurring in Whoville. He seemed happy, something she had long ago been worried she'd not be able to provide for him. Just as importantly, given all the turmoil he'd been through in the past couple of years, he seemed relaxed. Truly relaxed. She could tell because the hand at the end of his arm resting on the couch back above Christine's head was still. His fingers peacefully dangling there – no twitching, no flipping his sobriety chip around and around, no rolling a die between his digits. They just lay there calmly, not moving at all.

Brennan turned her head back to the movie but her mind was still stuck on thinking about Booth's fingers.

She thought about how strong they'd felt the time he wrapped them around her arm and pulled her from a rocky grave in the early days of their partnership. If she closed her eyes and thought about that experience, she could still recall the overwhelming relief she'd felt as she'd realized he had hold of her. He'd gripped her so hard, there'd been bruises on her skin in the imprint of his fingers for several days after and she would have been perfectly content if those particular bruises had never faded.

She thought about how powerful his hands looked as they confidently cradled his gun whenever he had to challenge an adversary in the course of his work, something she'd found oddly arousing even long before they'd become sexually involved.

She thought about how comforting his fingers had felt as they held her close and combed gently through her hair while she'd despaired over the loss of an intern who died at the whim of a serial killer that thought he was the Hand of God. She didn't believe God really existed, but if he did, his hands would be more like Booth's than Broadsky's, of that she was certain.

She thought about how sexy they could look, the contrast of his perpetually tan fingers against her pale skin and how exciting they felt when he stroked them over her body, whether it was to smooth over the naked contour of her back or a barely there caress across the tips of her nipples or any other number of ways he masterfully strummed her body like Niccolo Paganini strummed his violin.

Just as she was beginning to feel her body starting to respond to her salacious thoughts, she noticed the Grinch was serving dinner to all the Whos in Whoville, signaling the end of the movie.

Hank had fallen asleep on her lap, snuggled in to her warm fleece outfit, so Brennan rose gently from the sofa and carried him down the hall to his crib, tucking him in.

Christine on the other hand was still fighting the sleepys, the excitement of knowing it was Christmas Eve and what the morrow would bring keeping her wound up, so Booth volunteered to read her a couple bedtime stories.

Brennan returned to the living room, poured herself a glass of wine, a scotch for Booth, and set the jukebox to play Christmas songs softly in the background, knowing from years past that her husband would want to hear the holiday tunes for the remainder of the evening. She smiled to herself, it had become a tradition of theirs and Booth had taught her to appreciate having traditions that were uniquely theirs.

A few minutes later, Booth returned and Brennan handed him his scotch as he dropped down onto the sofa beside her.

"Christine go down okay?" she asked.

"Yeah. She's excited about tomorrow, but she was really tired too." He took a sip of his drink, relishing the flavor on his tongue, and chuckled. "First we read _The Polar Express_ and then we read _Twas The Night Before Christmas_. She was out by the time St. Nicholas came down the chimney with a bound."

Brennan leaned back against the couch and smiled warmly at him. "You are a wonderful father, Booth."

He smiled back, always pleased to get her praise. "Thanks, Bones." He took another sip of his drink before leaning forward and setting it on the coffee table. "Hey, you know what?" He stood up. Turning to face his wife, he held out his hand, palm up. "I think you should dance with me." Bing Crosby's _I'll Be Home For Christmas_ was playing in the background.

She rolled her eyes, but set her drink next to his and accepted his hand, happily letting him help pull her up and into his arms. Booth maneuvered them over in front of the Christmas tree so they'd have a bit more room and wrapped his arms around her waist as she draped her arms over his shoulders, pressing her cheek to his clavicle as she snuggled in to his chest and began to sway, slowly. "You look beautiful tonight, Bones."

She couldn't help it. She let out a full throated laugh. "I look like a plum tomato with a spotting disease."

Booth lifted one of his hands from around her waist and swatted her playfully on the ass.

"Hey" she leaned back, pretending affront. "None of that or you're not getting anything but coal in your stocking later tonight."

"You look beautiful," he insisted, a twinkle in his eyes as his voice softened and they continued to dance. "You look, you know, kinda soft and cuddly, not like some stiff, starchy kick-ass forensic anthropologist and I love that I'm the only one who gets to see this side of you." He placed a gentle kiss on her forehead. "I look at you in this outfit and I see a beautiful woman who loves me enough to indulge my whims and one who's willing to bend on her natural inclinations to please her children. You look fun . . . and loveable . . . and I just think you look great . . . . To me that's beautiful."

She pressed a soft kiss to his lips. "If you're wanting to have sex, Booth, all you have to do is say so."

Booth rolled his eyes then leaned down and blew a big, loud, wet raspberry on her neck, right below her ear. She squealed and squirmed in his arms, hollering his name, but he didn't let her get away. "Of course I want to have sex, Bones. I always want to have sex with you, but that's not what I was getting at."

Brennan moved her arms, running the palms of her hands over his shoulders and down his pectorals. "You fill these pajamas out better than I do. They don't even look silly on you."

He chuckled at the hint of a pout in her voice. "Mmm, that's cause I'm so hot I make everything look good, but if you keep running your hands over my chest like that and neither one of us will be wearing these outfits for very long."

The corner of her mouth lifted in a flirtatious grin as she deliberately, provocatively smoothed her hands over his chest again, pausing only long enough to flick his nipples through the fleece with her thumbnails. "Promise?"

His response was to move forward the short distance that separated them and press his mouth to hers, sipping at her lips until she opened and let him in, his tongue tangling with hers as they both fought to be the one in control. She could taste the smoky flavor of his scotch in his kiss and moaned in pleasure. He used one arm to pull her body closer to his, pressing them together intimately, while sliding the other hand down to palm her bottom, taking advantage of the drop flap in her pajamas to slide inside the material to the warm flesh beneath.

"Bones," he pulled back, breaking their kiss and looking at her in faux outrage, "No panties?"

She answered with a saucy grin. "Good detecting there, Agent Booth. Think Santa will consider that naughty or nice?"

"Oh, well, I can't speak for Santa, but I find it naughty . . . definitely very naughty, but in the nicest way."

She gently tugged on the zipper at his neck, sliding it down to the base of his sternum so that she could plant small wet kisses at his suprasternal notch, letting her tongue sneak out to sample his warm skin.

"Mmmm," he groaned. "I love when you do that."

They continued to dance, their slow swaying to the music becoming a little more aggressive as they deliberately rubbed together, rocking their hips suggestively. Brennan could feel the stiff ridge of her husband's penis cradled against her abdomen through the soft fleece of both their outfits. Booth placed a knuckle under her chin and lifted her face to his so he could kiss her again.

That they would end up making love before the evening was through hadn't ever really been in doubt, but he claimed her mouth in a manner that let her know things were progressing rapidly towards that direction, promising sooner rather than later. The moist heat of his mouth, the thrust of his tongue, the breathtaking way he consumed her lips still left her reeling.

"Booth?" she broke for air.

"Yeah, Bones."

"Mmm, I'm very aroused and the natural increase in blood pressure combined with the flushing of my capillaries near the surface of my epidermis related to my arousal is elevating my body temperature."

Booth looked at his wife and blinked. Twice. Three times as he tried to understand her comment through the haze of lust clouding his mind. "You're getting too warm?"

She smiled with pleasure, always pleased by how well he understood her. "Yes. Comfy as these pajamas feel for lounging around, the fleece is feeling overly warm now."

He kissed her again, just because he couldn't not kiss her. "Well, we can rectify that pretty easily, Bones." He stepped back from their embrace, but retained hold of one hand. "Bedroom?" he gave a tug and started to pull her that direction.

Brennan bit her bottom lip and pulled back, resisting. "Sofa."

"Yeah?" He stepped closer again and reached for the top of her zipper. "Sofa, huh?"

She blushed and gave him a sheepish grin. "Well . . . it's kind of tradition, Booth."

"Tradition," he grinned, "making love in front of the Christmas tree on Christmas Eve," his gaze focused on the hints of flesh revealed by the hum of her zipper coming undone. "Man, do I love our traditions."

They quickly disrobed from there, leaving two piles of red fleece and a bunch of happy penguins on the floor.

Brennan fell back into the sofa cushions, pulling her husband down on top of her.

Foreplay wasn't really necessary after their dancing and flirting. She was already wet and he was already hard. Nonetheless, they weren't in an urgent frenzy yet and both still took immense pleasure in all aspects of their lovemaking.

So, they took their time . . . she fisted him and stroked top to bottom, swirling her thumb over the tip of his glans on the upstroke . . . he trailed open mouthed kisses across her chest, suckling on one extremely responsive, pert nipple until he heard her mewl of pleasure before switching to the other . . . she slid her hand down to palm his ass and pull him closer, letting her fingernails scrape along the seam between his cheeks, sending shivers up his spine at the teasing hint of taboo . . . he reached between her legs, spreading her labia and stroking her folds, making sure to tease her clitoris just enough to keep her on edge without letting her go over.

They each knew what the other liked so they stroked, nibbled, sucked, squeezed and rubbed together, the pleasure for each increasing with the pleasure of the other until they could hold back no more.

"Booth. Now."

"Bones."

He shifted his hips and she was ready for him, greeting him warmly as he slid into her body, uniting them fully at last. She orgasmed almost instantly at the feel of him deep inside, the walls of her vaginal channel gripped him tightly as they rippled around him. "Aw, fuck, Bones. You're incredible."

"I know." With Herculean effort, Booth stayed still until she settled down, then started to slowly rock his pelvis. "More, Booth," she commanded.

He delivered.

The next several minutes were filled with grunts, sighs, and moans broken by demands for "more . . . harder . . . don't stop . . . oh god, do that again."

When Booth was certain she was about to hit her second orgasm, he let go, burying himself as deep as he could get while she clenched violently around him, the legs wrapped around his hips keeping him pressed as tightly to her as he could be. They both exploded together, completely consumed by the fire they'd built.

When it was over, neither moved for several minutes. They both relished the aftermath of their lovemaking sessions too, lying quietly together as their breathing returned to normal, their blood pressure calming, the rapid beating of their hearts pressed close together slowly stabilizing.

However, they couldn't stay there all night. They had stockings to stuff and Santa's Christmas presents needed to appear under the tree so eventually, they started to stir.

"I love you, Booth." Brennan stated as he shifted off her body, allowing her to sit up.

"I know, Bones." He smiled at her tenderly. "I love you too."

Naked, disheveled, sweaty and sticky, she strode across the room to the hall closet and removed several bags of goodies, all wrapped previously, and turned back towards the tree. She could sense her husband's eyes following her and turned to catch his hungry gaze admiring her body.

"C'mon, Booth. Give me hand here," she ordered. "Once we're done with this, we can do _that_ . . ." she glanced towards the sofa with a teasing smile ". . . . again, if you're up for it."

Booth stood up and picked up one of the bags of gifts, starting to pull things out and place them under the tree. Flashing her his cockiest grin, he responded. "Of course I'm up for it, Bones. It is tradition, you know."

* * *

 **A/N:** _For those that may not recall, Booth told Brennan he was going to celebrate Christmas wearing his footie pajamas in S11E8. That was the true prompt for how this chapter came about. Hope this provides a little warm cheer, especially for those about to be hit with their 4_ _th_ _Nor'easter in the last few weeks. As always, reviews are welcome and appreciated._


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